THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

GEORGE     PEARSON 


CORPORAL    (NOW    SERGEANT)    EDWARD    EDWARDS,    PRINCESS 
PATRICIA'S  CANADIAN  LIGHT  INFANTRY. 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A 
PRINCESS  PAT 


Being  the  full  account  of  the  capture  and  fifteen  months' 

imprisonment  of  Corporal  Edwards,  of  the  Princess 

Patricia's  Canadian  Light  Infantry,  and  his 

final  escape  from  Germany  into  Holland 

BY 

GEORGE  PEARSON 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1918, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

OUR  COMRADES  WHO  FELL 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 


PREFACE 

In  order  to  remove  all  question  of  doubt  in  the 
mind  of  the  reader  it  might  perhaps  be  well  to  state 
here  that  the  facts  as  given  are  the  bona  fide  experi- 
ences of  Corporal  Edwards,  Number  39,  Number 
One  Company,  P.  P.  C.  L.  I.,  and  as  such  were  sub- 
jected to  the  closest  scrutiny  both  by  the  author  and 
others  before  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  give  the 
account  to  the  public.  In  particular  great  pains  were 
taken  to  do  full  justice  to  all  enemy  individuals  who 
figure  in  the  story. 

Recognizing  the  seriousness  of  the  charges  implied 
by  the  recital,  all  those  concerned  with  it  are  ex- 
tremely anxious  that  the  correctness  of  the  account 
should  constitute  its  chief  value :  In  short  the  inten- 
tion has  been  to  make  of  the  story  a  readable  history. 

The  main  facts — having  to  do  with  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  regiment  on  the  eighth  of  May,  1915, 
the  identity  and  activities  of  the  individuals  men- 
tioned and  the  more  important  of  the  later  happen- 
ings, including  the  final  escape  into  Holland — are 

vii 


PREFACE 


matters  of  official  record  and  as  such  have  frequently 
been  mentioned  in  the  official  dispatches.  The  more 
personal  details  are  based  on  the  recollections  of 
Corporal  Edwards'  retentive  mind,  aided  by  his  very 
unusual  powers  of  observation  and  the  rough  diary 
which  he  managed  to  retain  possession  of  during  his 
later  adventures. 

For  the  events  preceding  the  capture  of  Corporal 
Edwards  on  the  eighth  of  May  the  author  has  relied 
upon  his  own  recollections;  as  he  too  had  the  honor 
of  having  been  "an  original  Patricia." 

G.  P. 

Sept.  i,  1917. 
Toronto,  Canada. 


vm 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     Polygon  Wood 14 

II     The  Fourth  of  May 20 

III  Corporal  Edwards  Takes  up  the  Tale  23 

IV  Major  Gault  Comes  Back      ...  28 

V     The  Eighth  of  May  and  the  Last 

Stand  of  the  Princess  Pats       .     .  33 

VI     Prisoners 45 

VII     Pulling  the  Leg  of  a  German  General  61 

VIII     The     Princess     Patricia's     German 

Uncle 70 

IX     How  the  German  Red  Cross  Tended 

the  Canadian  Wounded     ...  76 

X     The  Curious  Concoctions  of  the  Chef 

at  Giessen 81 

The  Way  They  Have  at  Giessen     .  86 

XII     The  Escape 104 

XIII  The  Traitor  at  Vehnmoor       .     .     .  115 

XIV  Away  Again 123 

ix 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV     Paying  the  Piper 140 

XVI     The  Third  Escape 158 

XVII     What  Happened  in  the  Wood     .     .  177 

XVIII     The  Last  Lap 185 

XIX     Holland  at  Last 194 

XX     "It's  a  Way  They  Have  in  the  Army"  203 

The  Evidence  in  the  Case  210 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Corporal  (Now  Sergeant)  Edward  Edwards, 
Princess  Patricia's  Canadian  Light  In- 
fantry   , .  .  Frontispiece 


PAGE 


British  wounded  waiting  for  transportation  to 

a  dressing  station 26 

The  Princess  Patricias  in  billets  at  Westoutre, 

Belgium 26 

German    prisoners    bringing    wounded    men 

down  a  communication  trench     ...       42 

Wounded  Canadians  receiving  first  aid  after 

an  attack 64 

Recipes  from  Corporal  Edward's  Diary      .     .  84 

Fellow  prisoners  at  Geissen 98 

Fellow  prisoners  at  Geissen 98 

Record  of  second  escape  and  recapture     .     .  126 

German  prisoners  at  Southampton   .     .     .     .  136 

High     explosives     bursting     over     German 

trenches  ,     ,     , 146 

3d 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Salient  details  of  the  third  escape     ....  170 

Private  Mervin  C.  Simmons,  C.  E.  F.     .     .  192 

The  cemetery  at  Celle  Laager  Z  i  Camp     .     .  206 

Corporal  Edwards  after  his  escape  ....  206 

Homeward  bound    .     .          .  220 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 


THE   ESCAPE    OF   A 
PRINCESS  PAT 

CHAPTER  I 

POLYGON  WOOD 

Ypres   and   Hill   60 — Preparing   for   the   Gas — Why   the 
Patricias  Cheered — The  Retirement — The  Thin  Red  Line. 

THE  Princess  Patricias  had  lain  in  Polygon  Wood 
since  the  twentieth  of  April,  mid-way  between  the 
sanguinary  struggles  of  St.  Julien  and  Hill  60,  spec- 
tators of  both.  Although  subjected  to  constant 
alarm  we  had  had  a  comparatively  quiet  time  of  it, 
with  casualties  that  had  only  varied  from  five 
to  fifty-odd  each  day. 

By  day  and  night  the  gun-fire  of  both  battles  had 
beat  back  upon  us  in  great  waves  of  sound.  There 
were  times  when  we  had  donned  our  water  soaked 
handkerchiefs  for  the  gas  that  always  threatened 
but  never  came,  so  that  the  expectation  might  have 
shaken  less  steady  troops.  Quick  on  the  heels  of  the 

15 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

first  news  of  the  gas  the  women  of  Britain,  their 
tears  scalding  their  needles,  with  one  accord  had 
laboured,  sans  rest,  sans  sleep,  sans  everything,  so 
that  shortly  there  had  poured  in  to  us  here  a  steady 
stream  of  gauze  pads  for  mouth  and  nostril.  For  the 
protection  of  our  lungs  against  the  poison  of  the  gas 
they  were  at  least  better  than  the  filthy  rags  we 
called  handkerchiefs.  We  wore  their  gifts  and  in 
spirit  bowed  to  the  donors,  as  I  think  all  still  do.  We 
soaked  them  with  the  foul  water  of  the  near-by 
graves  and  kept  them  always  at  our  side,  ready  to 
tie  on  at  each  fresh  alarm. 

Once  there  had  come  word  in  a  special  army  order 
of  the  day:  "Our  Belgian  agent  reports  that  all 
enemy  troops  on  this  front  have  been  directed  to 
enter  their  trenches  to-night  with  fixed  bayonets.  All 
units  are  enjoined  to  exercise  the  closest  watch  on 
their  front;  the  troops  will  stand  to  from  the  first 
appearance  of  darkness,  with  each  man  at  his  post 
prepared  for  all  eventualities.  Sleep  will  not  be 
permitted  under  any  circumstances." 

The  consequence  had  been  that  that  night  had 
been  one  of  nervous  expectation  of  an  attack  which 
did  not  materialise.  We  always  carried  fixed  bay- 

16 


POLYGON  WOOD 


onets  in  the  trenches  but  the  Germans  were  better 
equipped  with  loopholes,  as  they  were  with  most 
other  things,  and  were  forced  to  leave  their  bayonets 
off  their  rifles  in  order  to  avoid  any  danger  of  the 
latter  sticking  in  their  metal  shields  when  needed 
in  a  hurry,  to  say  nothing  of  the  added  attention 
they  would  draw  in  their  exposed  and  stationary 
position  at  the  mouth  of  a  loophole.  The  "Stand- 
to"  had  come  as  a  distinct  relief  that  morning. 

And  always  there  had  been  the  glowering  fires  of 
a  score  of  villages.  The  greater  mass  of  burning 
Ypres  stood  up  amongst  them  like  the  warning  fin- 
ger of  God.  Occasionally  the  roaring  burst  of  an 
ammunition  dump  flared  up  into  a  volcano  of  fiery 
sound.  The  earth  under  our  feet  trembled  in  con- 
vulsive shudders  from  a  cannonade  so  vast  that  no 
one  sound  could  be  picked  out  of  it  and  the  walls 
of  dug-outs  slid  in,  burying  sleeping  men.  But  like 
the  promise  of  God  there  came  to  us  in  every  inter- 
val of  quietness,  as  always,  the  full-throated  song 
of  many  birds. 

Our  forces  consisted  of  the  French  who  held  the 
left  corner  of  the  Ypres  salient,  then  the  Canadian 
division  in  the  centre,  next  the  28th  Division  of 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

the  regular  British  Army  and  then  our  own,  the 
lyth,  with  Hill  60  on  our  right  flank.  The  enemy 
attacked  both  at  Hill  60  and  at  the  line  of  the 
Canadian  Division  and  the  French,  and  we  held  on 
to  the  horse-shoe  shaped  line  until  the  last  possible 
moment  when  one  more  shake  of  the  tree  would 
have  thrown  us  like  ripe  fruit  into  the  German  lap. 

So  near  had  the  converging  German  forces  ap- 
proached to  one  another  that  the  weakened  battery 
behind  our  own  trenches  had  been  at  the  last,  turned 
around  the  other  way  and  fired  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection without  a  shift  in  its  own  position.  For 
our  own  protection  we  had  nothing.  And  later  still 
these  and  all  other  guns  left  us  to  seek  new  positions 
in  the  rear  so  that  only  we  of  the  infantry  remained. 

Daily  there  had  come  orders  to  "Stand-to"  in  full 
marching  order,  to  evacuate;  at  which  all  ranks  ex- 
postulated angrily.  And  then  perhaps  another  order 
— to  stick  it  another  day;  at  which  we  cheered  and 
slapped  one  another  boisterously  on  the  back  so  that 
the  stolid  Germans  over  yonder  must  have  wondered, 
knowing  what  they  did  of  our  desperate  situation. 

But  the  dreaded  order  came  at  last  and  was  con- 
firmed, so  that  under  protest  and  like  the  beaten 

18 


POLYGON  WOOD 


men  that  we  knew  we  were  not,  we  slunk  away  un- 
der cover  of  darkness  on  the  night  of  the  third  of 
May  to  trenches  three  miles  in  the  rear,  and  with  us 
went  the  troops  on  ten  more  miles  of  British  front. 

The  movement  as  executed  was  in  reality  a  feat 
of  no  mean  importance  on  the  part  of  the  higher 
command.  Faced  by  an  overwhelmingly  superior 
force,  our  badly  depleted  three  divisions  had  barely 
escaped  being  bagged  in  the  net  of  which  the  enemy 
had  all  but  drawn  the  noose  in  a  strategetic  sur- 
rounding movement. 

In  detail,  the  movement  had  consisted  of  with- 
drawing under  cover  of  darkness  with  all  that  we 
could  carry  of  our  trench  material,  both  to  prevent 
it  falling  into  hostile  hands  and  equally  to  strengthen 
our  new  position.  A  small  rearguard  of  fifteen  men 
to  the  regiment  had  held  our  front  for  the  few  hours 
necessary  for  us  to  "shake  down"  in  the  new  position. 
Their  task  was  to  remain  behind  and  to  give  a  con- 
tinuous rapid-fire  from  as  many  different  spots  as 
possible  in  a  given  time,  thereby  keeping  up  the  illu- 
sion of  a  heavily  manned  trench.  Then,  they  too  had 
faded  quietly  away,  following  us. 

Our  new  trenches  were  three  miles  behind  those 
19 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

we  had  just  evacuated  in  Polygon  Wood.  Zillebeke 
lay  just  to  the  left  and  beyond  that,  Hooge.  We 
were  in  the  open,  with  Belle-waarde  Wood  and  Lake 
behind  us. 

We  continued  to  face  vastly  superior  forces.  To 
make  matters  worse  the  trenches  were  assuredly  a 
mockery  of  their  kind  and  there  was  even  less  of  ade- 
quate support  than  before.  And  at  that  the  drafts 
arrived  each  day — if  they  were  lucky  enough  to 
break  through  the  curtains  of  fire  with  which  the 
enemy  covered  our  rear  for  that  very  purpose,  as 
well  as  for  the  further  one  of  curtailing  the  arrival 
of  all  necessary  supplies  of  food  and  ammunition. 

Every  camp  and  hospital  from  Ypres  to  Rouen 
and  the  sea  and  from  Land's  End  to  John  O'  Groat 
was  combed  and  scraped  for  every  eligible  casualty, 
every  overconfident  office  holder  of  a  "cushy"  job, 
and  in  short,  for  all  those  who  could  by  hook  or 
crook  hold  a  rifle  to  help  stem  this  threatening  tide. 
And  in  our  own  lot,  even  those  wasteful  luxuries,  the 
petted  officers'  servants  were  amongst  us,  doing  fight- 
ing duty  for  the  first  time,  so  that  we  almost  wel- 
comed the  desperate  occasion  which  furnished  so  rare 
and  sweet  a  sight. 

20 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  FOURTH  OF  MAY 

The  Unofficial  Armistice — The  Clash  of  the  Scouts — "Stick- 
ing It"  on  the  Fourth. 

WE  suffered  cruelly  on  the  Fourth.  The  dawn 
had  discovered  two  long  lines  of  men,  madly  digging 
in  plain  sight  of  one  another.  There  was  no  firing 
except  that  one  little  storm  when  the  stronger  light 
had  shown  our  rear  guard  ridiculously  tangled  up 
with  a  screen  of  German  scouts  so  that  some  of  each 
were  nearer  to  foe  than  to  friend  and  so  had  foes 
on  either  side.  They  shot  at  one  another.  Some  of 
us  in  our  excitement  shot  at  both,  scarce  able  to  dis- 
tinguish one  from  the  other.  Others  amongst  us 
strove  to  knock  their  rifles  up.  And  the  Germans  in 
their  trenches  shot  too.  Both  of  us  of  the  main 
bodies  continued  to  respect  the  tacit  truce  imposed 
by  the  conditions  under  which  we  found  ourselves, 
insofar  as  we  ourselves  were  concerned,  and  fired 
only  at  the  poor  fellows  in  between. 

As  for  them,  I  fear  the  absurd  nature  of  their 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

tragic  plight  excited  more  of  wonder  than  of  con- 
cern. They  merged  into  hedges  and  ditches  swal- 
lowed them.  Their  case  was  only  one  incident  of 
many,  and  what  became  of  them  I  have  never  heard, 
except  that  Lieutenant  Lane  who  commanded  our 
rear  guard  was  with  us  on  the  Eighth,  so  I  presume 
that  some  must  have  crawled  up  to  us  that  night  and 
so  saved  themselves  for  the  moment.  Anything  else 
would  have  been  a  great  pity  for  so  brave  a  squad. 

The  digging  continued  until  the  better  equipped 
Germans  had  finished  their  task;  when  they  sought 
their  holes  with  one  accord,  an  example  which  we 
as  quickly  followed. 

This  was  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  of  May.  From  then  on  until  dusk  the  in- 
tensity of  a  furious  all-day  bombardment  by  every 
known  variety  of  projectile  had  been  broken  only 
at  intervals  to  allow  of  the  nearer  approach  of  the 
enemy's  attacking  infantry.  The  worst  was  the  en- 
filade fire  of  two  batteries  on  our  right  which  with 
six-inch  high  explosive  shells  tore  our  front  line  to 
fragments  so  that  we  were  glad  indeed  to  see  the 
night  come.  Only  once  had  ours  replied,  one  gun 
only.  That  was  early  in  the  morning.  It  barked 

22 


THE  FOURTH  OF  MAY 


feebly,  twice,  but  drew  so  fierce  a  German  fire  that  it 
was  forever  silenced. 

Some  infantry  attacks  followed  but  were  beaten 
off.  Only  a  weak  half  of  the  battalion  was  in  the 
front  line  trench.  The  remainder  were  in  Belle- 
waarde  Wood,  the  outer  fringe  of  which  was  a  bare 
one  hundred  yards  behind  the  front  line.  They  were 
fairly  comfortable  in  pine  bough  huts  which  were, 
however,  with  some  of  their  occupants,  badly 
smashed  by  shell  fire  that  day. 

The  outcome  was  that  although  all  attacks  were 
beaten  off,  our  losses  were  well  on  to  two  hundred 
men,  most  of  whom  were  accounted  for  in  the  more 
exposed  front  line. 

The  order  had  been  that  we  were  to  hold  this 
front  for  several  days  more  although  the  regiment 
had  been  in  the  trenches  since  April  the  2oth,  and, 
except  for  a  march  back  to  Ypres  from  Polygon 
Wood,  since  early  April.  But  after  such  a  smashing 
blow  on  men  who  were  already  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted, the  plan  was  changed  and  our  line  was 
taken  over  by  the  King's  Shropshire  Light  Infan- 
try, the  "Shrops"  we  called  them,  a  sister  regiment 
in  our  brigade,  the  8oth. 

23 


CHAPTER  III 

CORPORAL  EDWARDS  TAKES  UP  THE  TALE 

Amongst     the     Wounded — Trench     Nerves — Resting     in 

Coffins. 

IT  was  on  this  day  that  I  rejoined  the  regiment.  I 
had  been  wounded  in  the  foot  at  St.  Eloi  in  February 
and  had  come  up  in  a  draft  fresh  from  hospital  and 
had  lain  in  the  supports  at  the  huts  all  of  the  Fourth. 

The  survivors  of  the  front  line  fire  joined  those 
at  the  huts  shortly  after  nightfall.  They  were 
stupid  from  shell  fire,  too  dazed  to  talk.  I  saw  one 
man  wandering  in  half  circles,  talking  to  himself — 
and  with  a  heavy  pack  on.  There  were  others  in 
worse  plight;  so  there  was  no  help  for  him. 

Myself,  I  was  too  much  engrossed  in  a  search  for 
my  comrade  Woods  to  bother  with  other  men  less 
dear,  however  much  I  might  sympathise  with  them. 

He  and  I  had  been  "mates"  since  Toronto  days, 
had  made  good  cheer  together  in  the  hot  August 
days  of  mobilisation  at  Ottawa  and  had  rubbed  mess 

24 


CORPL.  EDWARDS  TAKES  UP  THE  TALE 

tins  together  under  the  starry  sky  at  Levis  before 
the  great  Armada  had  taken  us  to  English  camps 
and  other  scenes. 

It  was  he  who  had  fetched  me  out  of  danger  at 
St.  Eloi.  And  now  it  was  my  turn.  They  told  me 
he  was  somewhere  on  a  stretcher. 

I  searched  them  all.  I  struck  matches — and  was 
met  by  querulous  curses;  I  knelt  by  the  side  of  the 
dying;  I  inquired  of  those  wounded  who  still  could 
walk,  but  find  him  I  could  not.  It  appears  that  a 
new  and  heavy  moustache  had  helped  to  hide  him 
from  me.  I  was  in  great  distress,  but  in  the  fullness 
of  time  and  when  our  small  circles  had  run  their 
route,  I  discovered  him  in  Toronto. 

The  word  was  that  we  were  to  go  to  Vlamertinghe, 
where  the  Zeppelins  had  bombed  us  in  our  huts.  It 
lay  well  below  threatened  Ypres. 

We  of  Number  One  Company  passed  Belle- 
waarde  Lake,  with  its  old  dug-outs  and  its  smells, 
and  struck  off  across  the  fields,  the  better  to  avoid 
the  heavy  barrage  fire  which  made  all  movement 
of  troops  difficult  beyond  words.  We  reached  the 
railroad  up  and  down  which  in  quieter  times  the 

25 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

battalion  had  been  wont  to  march  to  and  fro  to  the 
Polygon  Wood  trenches. 

The  fire  became  heavier  here  and  the  going  was 
rough  so  that  what  with  the  burden  of  packs  which 
seemed  to  weigh  a  ton  and  all  other  things ;  we  moved 
in  a  mass,  as  sheep  do.  When  slung  rifles  jostled 
packs,  good  friends  cursed  one  another  both  loud  and 
long.  This  was  trench  nerves. 

Shortly,  we  ran  into  a  solid  wall  of  barrage  fire. 
The  officer  commanding  the  company  halted  us. 
We  were  for  pushing  on  to  that  rest  each  aching 
bone  and  muscle,  each  tight-stretched  and  shell- 
dazed  nerve  fairly  screamed  aloud  for.  But  he  was 
adamant.  We  cursed  him.  He  pretended  not  to 
hear.  This  also  was  trench  nerves. 

It  was  growing  late.  The  star  shells  became 
fewer.  The  search-lights  ceased  altogether.  In  half 
an  hour  those  keen  eyes  in  distant  trees  and  steeples 
would  have  marked  us  down — and  what  good  then 
the  agony  of  this  all-night  march?  Better  to  have 
been  killed  back  there  in  Belle-waarde.  We  were 
still  a  good  two  miles  from  Ypres  town. 

The  officer  literally  drove  us  back  over  the  way 
we  had  come.  His  orders  had  anticipated  this  even- 

26 


BRITISH    WOUNDED    WAITING    FOR    TRANSPORTATION    TO    A    DRESSING 
STATION. 


THE     PRINCESS     PATRICIAS     IN     BILLETS      AT      WESTOUTRE.     BELGIUM. 
ON    TOP    OF    WAGON    IN    FOREGROUND    IS    "KNIFE-REST" 
TYPE    OF    WIRE    ENTANGLEMENTS. 


CORPL.  EDWARDS  TAKES  UP  THE  TALE 

tuality  so  that  rather  than  force  the  passage  of  the 
barrage  fire,  merely  for  a  rest,  we  should  rest  here 
where  no  rest  was1  to  be  had.  Undoubtedly,  if  we 
had  been  "going  up"  it  would  have  been  different. 
We  should  have  gone  on — no  fire  would  have 
stopped  us. 

The  half  hour  limit  brought  us  to  a  murky  day- 
light and  an  old  and  sloppy  support  trench  which 
bordered  the  track  and  into  which  we  flung  our- 
selves, to  lay  in  the  water  in  a  dull  stupor  that  was 
neither  sleep  nor  honest  waking. 

Later,  when  the  rations  had  been  "dished  out"  we 
bestirred  ourselves  and  so  found  or  dug  queer  cof- 
fin-shaped shelves  in  either  wall.  Out  of  courtesy 
we  called  them  dug-outs. 

I  do  not  remember  that  any  one  spoke  much  of 
the  dead. 

The  rain  stopped  and  for  a  time  the  unaccus- 
tomed sun  came  out.  We  drove  stakes  in  the  walls 
above  our  coffins,  hunted  sand-bags  and  hung  them 
and  spare  equipment  over  the  open  face  and  then 
crawled  back  into  the  water  which,  as  usual,  was  al- 
ready forming  in  the  hollows  that  our  hips  made 
where  we  lay.  Until  noon  there  was  little  heard 

27 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

but  the  thick  breathing  of  weary  men.  Occasionally 
one  tossed  and  shouted  blasphemous  warnings  anent 
imaginary  and  bursting  shells;  whereat  those  within 
hearing  whined  in  a  tired  and  hopeless  anger,  and, 
if  close  by,  kicked  him.  Trench  nerves. 

All  day  the  fire  of  many  guns  sprayed  us.  Near 
by,  the  well  defined  emplacement  of  one  of  our  own 
batteries  inevitably  drew  to  the  entire  vicinity  a 
heavy  fire  so  that  one  shell  broke  fair  amongst  our 
sleeping  men. 


28 


CHAPTER  IV 

MAJOR  GAULT  COMES  BACK 

"The  King  Is  Dead" :  "Long  Live  the  King"— Back  to  Belle- 
waarde — The  Seventh  of  May. 

THAT  was  on  the  fifth.  In  the  afternoon  young 
Park  came  to  us.  He  was  the  Commanding  Officer's 
orderly.  There  was  down  on  his  face  but  he  was 
full  of  all  that  strange  wisdom  of  a  trenchman  who 
had  experienced  the  bitter  hardships  and  the  heart- 
breaking losses  of  a  winter  in  the  cursed  salient  of 
St.  Eloi,  by  Shelley  Farm  and  The  Mound  of 
Death.  But  just  now  this  infant  of  the  trenches 
had  the  round  eyes  of  a  startled  child,  which  in  him 
meant  mad  excitement. 

"The  C.  O.'s  hit." 

The  word  slid  up  the  trench:    "The  C.O.'s  hit." 

"Strike  me !  Cawn't  this  bleedin'  regiment  keep  a 
bleedin'  Colonel ?  That  makes  two  of  them!" 

"How  did  it  happen?' 

"What  the  devil  are  we  goin'  to  do?" 
29 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

"Who  says  so?" 

"The  second  in  six  weeks !" 

"Parkie." 

"By !     This  mob's  in  a  Hell  of  a  fix,  Bo'." 

Park  was  leaning  on  his  rifle,  trench  fashion. 
"Oh,  dry  up.  You  give  me  a  pain." 

And  then  he  launched  his  thunderbolt,  "Gault's 
back." 

The  chorus  of  despair  became  one  of  wild  delight. 

"We're  jake !"  "He'll  see  us  through."  "Where 
is  he?"  "How's  his  arm?"  "The  son-of-a-gun ! 
Couldn't  keep  him  away,  could  they*?" 

"No  fear.  Not  'im.  Bloody  well  wanted  to  be 
wiv  'is  bleedin'  boys,  'e  did.  'E  ain't  bloody  well 
goin'  to  do  'is  bloody  solderin'  in  a  'cushy'  job  in 
Blighty — like  some  of  'em.  Not  after  rysin'  us. 
Do  it  wiv  'is  bloody  self  like  a  man ;  an'  that's  wot 
'e  is." 

The  speaker  glared  accusingly;  but  his  declaration 
agreed  too  well  with  what  all  thought  for  any  one  to 
take  exception  to  it. 

The  new  Commanding  Officer  had  been  wounded 
at  St.  Eloi  on  March  ist  and  this  was  our  first  inti- 
mation of  his  return. 

30 


MAJOR  GAULT  COMES  BACK 


Park  took  up  his  tale.  "He's  over  there  with  the 
C.O.  now,"  and  switching:  "Shell  splinter  got  him 
in  the  eye.  Guess  it's  gone  and  maybe  the  other 
one  too." 

"By !"  he  burst  out  passionately :  "I  hope  it 

don't.  He's  been  damn  good  to  me — and  to  you  fel- 
lows too,"  he  added  fiercely,  while  his  lower  lip  quiv- 
ered. 

I  think  all  stared  anywhere  but  at  Park,  in  a  cu- 
rious embarrassment. 

"Got  it  goin'  from  one  trench  to  another  to  see 
about  the  rations  comin'  up  instead  of  stayin'  in 
like  a  'dug-out  wallah.'  Got  out  on  top  of  the 
ground,  walked  across  an'  stopped  one,"  he  added 
bitterly. 

A  considerable  draft  of  "old  boys,"  ruddy  of  face 
and  fresh  from  hospital,  together  with  some  more 
new  men  reached  us  that  night.  We  "went  up" 
again  with  the  dusk  of  the  following  night  and  "took 
over"  our  previous  trenches  in  front  of  Belle-waarde 
Wood. 

We  were  told  that  the  Shropshires  had  been  rather 
badly  cut  up  in  the  interval  of  their  occupation  by 
a  further  course  of  intense  bombardment  and  some 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

fierce  infantry  fighting.  Nevertheless,  the  trenches 
had  been  put  into  much  better  shape  since  our  earlier 
occupancy  of  them,  so  that  what  with  our  work 
that  night  they  were  by  the  morning  of  the  seventh 
in  fairly  good  shape. 

The  night  was  not  unusual  in  any  way.  There 
was  the  regular  amount  of  shelling,  of  star  shells, 
of  machine  gun  and  rifle  fire,  and  of  course,  casu- 
alties. Those  we  always  had,  be  it  ever  so  quiet. 

Even  the  morning  "Stand-to"  with  that  myste- 
rious dread  of  unknown  dangers  that  it  invariably 
brought  gave  us  nothing  worse  than  an  hour  of  chilly 
waiting — and  later,  the  smoke  of  the  Germans'  cook- 
ing fires. 

There  were  none  for  us.  It  was  as  simple  as 
algebra.  Smoke  attracted  undue  artillery  attention 
— the  Germans  had  artillery;  we  had  not.  They 
had  fires ;  we  had  not. 

The  day  rolled  by  smoothly  enough.  Except  for 
the  fresh  graves  and  a  certain  number  of  unburied 
dead  the  small-pox  appearance  of  the  shell-pitted 
ground  about  might  have  been  thought  to  have  been 
of  ancient  origin;  so  filled  with  water  were  the 
shell  holes  and  so  large  had  they  grown  as  a  result 

32 


MAJOR  GAULT  COMES  BACK 


of  the  constant  sloughing  in  of  their  sodden  banks. 

During  all  these  days  the  German  fire  on  the  sal- 
ient at  large  had  continued  as  fiercely  as  before  but 
had  spared  us  its  severest  trials. 

The  night  of  the  seventh  passed  to  all  outward 
appearance  pretty  much  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
preceding  one. 


33 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  EIGHTH  OF  MAY  AND  THE  LAST  STAND  OF 
THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

Morning  in  the  Trenches — The  Artillery  Preparation  for 
the  Infantry  Attack — The  P.P's  Chosen  to  Stem  the 
Tide — The  Trust  of  a  Lady — Chaos — Corporal  Dover — 
The  Manner  in  Which  Some  Men  Kill  and  Others  Die. 

IT  seemed  as  though  I  had  just  stepped  off  my 
whack  of  sentry  go  for  my  group  when  a  kick  in  the 
ribs  apprised  me  that  it  was  "Stand-to."  I  rubbed 
my  eyes,  swore  and  rose  to  my  feet.  Such  was  the 
narrowness  of  the  trench  that  the  movement  put 
me  at  my  post  at  the  parapet,  where  in  common 
with  my  mates,  I  fell  to  scanning  the  top  for  the 
first  signs  of  day  and  the  Germans. 

The  latter  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  ravine  from 
us  as  they  had  since  the  Fourth,  except  for  such  times 
as  they  had  assaulted  our  position.  The  smoke  of 
Ypres  and  all  the  close-packed  villages  of  a  thickly 
populated  countryside  rose  sullenly  on  every  hand. 

34 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

-•  •  -  — . 

Over  everything  there  hung  the  pallor  of  the  mist- 
ridden  Flemish  morning,  deadly  quiet,  as  was  usual 
at  that  time  of  the  trench  day  when  the  tenseness  of 
the  all-night  vigil  was  just  merging  into  the  relieving 
daylight. 

At  half  past  six  that  stillness  was  punctuated  by 
a  single  shell,  which  broke  barely  in  our  rear.  And 
then  the  ball  commenced — the  most  intense  bom- 
bardment we  had  yet  experienced.  Most  of  the 
fire  came  from  the  batteries  in  concealed  positions 
on  our  right,  whence,  as  on  the  fourth,  they  poured 
in  a  very  destructive  enfilade  fire  which  swept  up  and 
down  the  length  of  the  trench  like  the  stream  of  a 
hose,  making  it  a  shambles.  Each  burst  of  high- 
explosive  shells,  each  terrible  pulsation  of  the  at- 
mosphere, if  it  missed  the  body,  seemed  to  rend  the 
very  brain,  or  else  stupefied  it. 

The  general  result  was  beyond  any  poor  words 
of  mine.  All  spoken  language  is  totally  inadequate 
to  describe  the  shocks  and  horrors  of  an  intense  bom- 
bardment. It  is  not  that  man  himself  lacks  the 
imaginative  gift  of  words  but  that  he  has  not  the 
word  tools  with  which  to  work.  They  do  not  exist. 

35 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Each  attempt  to  describe  becomes  near  effrontery  and 
demands  its  own  separate  apology. 

In  addition,  kind  Nature  draws  a  veil  for  him 
over  so  much  of  all  the  worst  of  it  that  many  details 
are  spared  his  later  recollection.  He  remembers 
only  the  indescribable  confusion  and  the  bursting 
claps  of  near-by  flame,  as  foul  in  color  and  as  ill  of 
smell  as  an  addled  egg.  He  knows  only  that  the  acid 
of  the  high-explosive  gas  eats  into  the  tissue  of  his 
brain  and  lungs,  destroying  with  other  things,  most 
memories  of  the  shelling. 

Overhead  an  aeroplane  buzzed.  We  could  even 
descry  the  figures  of  the  pilot  and  his  observer,  the 
latter  signaling.  No  gun  of  ours  answered.  The 
dead  and  dying  lay  all  about  and  none  could  at- 
tend them:  A  rifle  was  a  rifle. 

This  continued  for  an  hour,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  we  poked  our  heads  up  and  saw  their  infantry 
coming  on  in  columns  of  mobs,  and  some  of  them 
also  very  prettily  in  the  open  order  we  had  ourselves 
been  taught.  Every  field  and  hedge  spewed  them 
up.  We  stood,  head  and  shoulders  exposed  above 
the  ragged  parapet,  giving  them  "Rapid-fire."  They 

36 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

had  no  stomach  for  that  and  retired  to  their  holes, 
leaving  many  dead  and  grievously  wounded. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  we  saw  the  troops  on  our 
flanks  falling  back  in  orderly  fashion.  I  called  that 
fact  to  the  attention  of  Lieutenant  Lane,  who  was 
the  only  officer  left  in  our  vicinity.  He  said  that 
the  last  word  he  had  received  was  to  hang  on. 

This  we  proceeded  to  do,  and  so,  we  are  told,  did 
the  others.  We  learned  later  that  the  battalion  roll 
call  that  night  showed  a  strength  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  men  out  of  the  six  hundred  and  thirty-five 
who  had  answered  "Present"  twenty-four  hours  ear- 
lier. And  the  official  records  of  the  Canadian  Eye 
Witness,  Lord  Beaverbrook,  then  Sir  Max  Aitken, 
as  given  in  "Canada  in  Flanders,"  state  that  "Those 
who  survive  and  the  friends  of  those  who  have  died 
may  draw  solace  from  the  thought  that  never  in 
the  history  of  arms  have  soldiers  more  valiantly  sus- 
tained the  gift  and  trust  of  a  Lady,"  referring  to 
the  Color  which  had  been  worked  for  and  presented 
to  us  by  the  Princess  Patricia,  daughter  of  His 
Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Connaught,  then  Gov- 
ernor-General of  Canada. 

We  were  on  the  apex  of  the  line  and  were  now 
37 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

. . — _ 

unsupported  on  either  side.  It  was  about  this  time, 
I  believe,  that  a  small  detachment  of  the  King's 
Shropshire  Light  Infantry,  a  sister  regiment  in  our 
brigade,  fetched  to  the  companies  in  our  rear  twenty 
boxes  of  badly  needed  ammunition  and  reenforced 
the  Princess  Patricias. 

Following  the  beating  off  of  their  infantry  attack 
the  Germans  gave  us  a  short  breathing  spell  until 
their  machine  guns  had  been  trained  on  our  parapet 
and  a  school  of  light  field  guns  dragged  up  into 
place.  The  aeroplane  came  out  again,  dropping  to 
within  three  hundred  feet  of  our  trench,  and  with 
tiny  jets  of  vari-colored  smoke  bombs,  directed  the 
terribly  accurate  fire  of  the  enemy  guns,  already  so 
close  to,  but  so  well  insured  against  any  harm  from 
us  that  they  attempted  no  concealment.  And  the 
big  guns  on  the  right  completed  the  devastation. 

This  continued  for  another  half  hour,  at  the  end 
of  which  time  there  remained  intact  only  one  small 
traverse  in  the  trench,  which  owed  its  existence  to 
the  fragment  of  chicken  wire  that  held  its  sides  up. 
The  remainder  was  absolutely  wiped  out.  This  time 
there  was  no  rapid  fire,  nor  even  any  looking  over 
the  top  to  see  if  the  enemy  were  coming  on.  In- 

38 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

stead,  the  Germans  fairly  combed  the  parapet  with 
their  machine  guns.  Each  indication  of  curiosity 
from  us  drew  forth  from  them  such  a  stream  of  fire 
that  the  top  of  the  parapet  spat  forth  a  steady  shower 
of  flying  mud,  and,  which  made  it  impossible  for  us 
to  defend  ourselves  properly,  even  had  there  been 
enough  of  us  left  to  do  so. 

The  rest  was  chaos,  a  bit  of  pure  hell.  Men 
struggling,  buried  alive  and  looking  at  us  for  the 
aid  they  would  not  ask  for.  Soldiers  all.  And  the 
Germans  now  pouring  in  in  waves  from  all  sides, 
and  especially  from  our  unprotected  flanks  and  rear, 
hindered  only  by  the  desultory  rifle  fire  of  our  two 
weakened  companies  in  the  support  trenches.  We 
were  receiving  rifle  fire  from  four  directions  and  bay- 
onet thrusts  from  the  Germans  on  the  parapet. 
Mowed  down  like  sheep.  And  as  they  came  on  they 
trampled  our  dead  and  bayoneted  our  wounded. 

The  machine-gun  crew  had  gone  under  to  a  man, 
doing  their  best  to  the  last.  I  think  Sergeant  White- 
head  went  with  them,  too;  at  least  he  was  near  there 
a  short  time  before,  and  I  never  saw  him  or  any  of 
the  gun  crew  again.  The  only  living  soul  near  that 
spot  was  Royston,  dragging  himself  out  from  under 

39 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

a  pile  of  debris  and  covered  with  mud  and  blood, 
his  face  horribly  swollen  to  twice  its  normal  size, 
blinded  foi  the  moment. 

To  quote  "Canada  in  Flanders"  again: 
"At  this  time  the  bombardment  recommenced  with 
great  intensity.  The  German  bombardment  had  been 
so  heavy  since  May  4th  that  a  wood  which  the 
Regiment  had  used  in  part  for  cover  was  completely 
demolished.  The  range  of  our  machine-guns  was 
taken  with  extreme  precision.  All,  without  excep- 
tion, were  buried.  Those  who  served  them  behaved 
with  the  most  admirable  coolness  and  gallantry. 
Two  were  dug  out,  mounted  and  used  again.  One 
was  actually  disinterred  three  times  and  kept  in 
action  till  a  shell  annihilated  the  whole  section. 
Corporal  Dover  stuck  to  his  gun  throughout  and, 
although  wounded,  continued  to  discharge  his  duties 
with  as  much  coolness  as  if  on  parade.  In  the  ex- 
plosion that  ended  his  ill-fated  gun,  he  lost  a  leg  and 
an  arm,  and  was  completely  buried  in  the  debris. 
Conscious  or  unconscious,  he  lay  there  in  that  condi- 
tion until  dusk,  when  he  crawled  out  of  all  that  was 
left  of  the  obliterated  trench  and  moaned  for  help. 
Two  of  his  comrades  sprang  from  the  support  trench 

40 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

— by  this  time  the  fire  trench — and  succeeded  in 
carrying  in  his  mangled  and  bleeding  body.  But  as 
all  that  remained  of  this  brave  soldier  was  being 
lowered  into  the  trench  a  bullet  put  an  end  to  his 
sufferings.  No  bullet  could  put  an  end  to  his  glory." 

George  Easton  was  firing  with  me  at  the  gray  mass 
of  the  oncoming  horde.  "My  rifle's  jammed!"  he 
cried. 

"Take  mine."  And  I  stooped  to  get  one  from  a 
casualty  underfoot.  But  a  moment  later,  as  I  fired 
from  the  parapet,  my  bayonet  was  broken  off  by  a 
German  bullet.  I  shouted  wildly  to  Cosh  to  toss  me 
one  from  near  by. 

Just  then  the  main  body  of  the  Germans  swarmed 
into  the  end  of  the  trench. 

Of  this  Lord  Beaverbrook  says :  "At  this  moment 
the  Germans  made  their  third  and  last  attack.  It 
was  arrested  by  rifle  fire,  although  some  individuals 
penetrated  into  the  fire  trench  on  the  right.  At  this 
point  all  the  Princess  Patricias  had  been  killed,  so 
that  this  part  of  the  trench  was  actually  tenantless. 
Those  who  established  a  footing  were  few  in  num- 
ber, and  they  were  gradually  dislodged;  and  so  the 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

third  and  last  attack  was  routed  as  successfully  as 
those  which  had  preceded  it." 

His  conclusion  that  we  had  all  been  killed  was 
justifiable  even  though,  fortunately  for  me,  it  was 
an  erroneous  one.  So  I  am  glad  for  other  motives 
than  those  of  mere  courtesy  to  be  able  here  to  set 
him  right. 

Bugler  Lee  shouted  to  me :  "I'm  shot  through  the 
leg."  A  couple  of  us  seized  him,  planning  to  go 
down  to  where  the  communication  trench  had  once 
been.  But  he  stopped  us,  saying:  "It's  no  good, 
boys.  It's  a  dead  end !  They're  killing  us." 

Cosh  swore.  "Don't  give  up,  kid!  We'll  beat 

the  yet!"  A  German  standing  a  few  yards 

away  raised  his  rifle  and  blew  his  head  off.  Young 
Brown  broke  down  at  this — they  had  just  done  in 
his  wounded  pal:  "Oh,  look!  Look  what  they've 
done  to  Davie,"  and  fell  to  weeping.  And  with 
that  another  put  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  against  the 
boy's  head  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

Young  Cox  from  Winnipeg  put  his  hands  above 
his  head  at  the  order.  His  captor  placed  the  muzzle 
of  his  rifle  squarely  against  the  palm  and  blew  it 

42 


GERMAN      PRISONERS      AFTER      A      SUCCESSFUL      CANADIAN      ATTACK, 
BRINGING    WOUNDED    MEN    DOWN"    A    COMMUNICATION    TRENCH. 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

off.    There  remained  only  a  bloody  and  broken  mass 
dangling  from  the  wrist. 

I  saw  a  man  who  had  come  up  in  the  draft  with 
me  on  the  4th,  rolling  around  in  the  death  agony, 
tossing  his  head  loosely  about  in  the  wild  pain  of  it, 
his  pallid  face  a  white  mark  in  the  muck  underfoot. 
A  burly  German  reached  the  spot  and  without  hesi- 
tation plunged  his  saw-edged  bayonet  through  the 
throat. 

Close  by  another  wounded  man  was  struggling 
feebly  under  a  pile  of  earth,  his  legs  projecting  so 
that  only  the  convulsive  heaving  of  the  loose  earth 
indicated  that  a  man  was  dying  underneath.  An- 
other German  observed  that  too,  and  shoved  his 
bayonet  through  the  mud  and  held  it  savagely  there 
until  all  was  quiet. 

This  I  did  not  see,  but  another  did  and  told  me  of 
it  afterward.  Sergeant  Phillpots  had  been  shot 
through  the  jaw  so  that  he  went  to  his  knees  as  a 
bullock  does  at  the  slaughtering.  He  supported  him- 
self waveringly  by  his  hands.  The  blood  poured 
from  him  so  that  he  was  all  but  fainting  with  the 
loss  of  it. 

A  big  German  stood  over  him. 
43 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Phillpots  looked  up :  "Play  the  game !  Play  the 
game!"  he  muttered  weakly. 

The  German  coolly  put  a  round  through  his  head. 

I  was  still  without  a  bayonet,  and  seeing  these 
things,  said  to  Easton :  "We'd  better  beat  it." 

He  swore  again.  "Yes,  they're  murdering  us. 
No  use  stopping  here.  Come  on !" 

And  just  then  he,  too,  dropped.  I  thought  him 
dead.  There  was  no  use  in  my  stopping  to  share  his 
fate  or  worse.  It  was  now  every  man  for  himself. 
At  a  later  date  we  met  in  England. 

The  other  half  of  the  regiment  lay  in  support  two 
hundred  yards  away  in  Belle-waarde  Wood  and  in 
front  of  the  chateau  and  lake  of  that  name,  where 
my  draft  had  lain  on  the  fourth.  I  made  a  dash 
for  it.  What  with  the  mud  and  the  many  shell 
holes,  the  going  was  bad.  I  was  indistinctly  aware 
of  a  great  deal  of  promiscuous  shooting  at  me,  but 
most  distinctly  of  one  German  who  shot  at  me  about 
ten  times  in  as  many  yards  and  from  quite  close 
range.  I  saw  I  could  not  make  it.  I  flung  myself 
into  a  Johnson  hole,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  caught 
my  breath,  scrambled  out  again  and  raced  for  the 
trench  I  had  just  left.  I  was  by  this  time  unarmed, 

44 


LAST  STAND  OF  THE  PRINCESS  PATS 

having  flung  my  rifle  away  to  further  my  flight,  not- 
withstanding which  another  German  shot  at  me  as 
I  went  toward  him. 

As  I  landed  in  the  trench  an  angry  voice  shouted 
something  I  could  not  understand.  And  I  scrambled 
to  my  feet  in  time  to  see  a  German  sullenly  lower 
his  rifle  from  the  level  of  my  body  at  the  command 
of  a  big  black-bearded  officer. 


45 


CHAPTER  VI 

PRISONERS 

A  German  Version  of  a  Soldier's  Death ! — The  Courage  of 
Cox — Robbing  the  Helpless — Water  on  the  End  of  a 
Bayonet — The  Curious  Case  of  Scott — Prussian  Bullies 
— Why  I  Was  Covered  with  a  Fine  Sweat. 

THE  Germans  were  by  this  time  in  full  possession 
of  this  slice  of  trench,  and  for  the  next  few  minutes 
the  officer  was  kept  busy  pulling  his  men  off  their 
victims.  Like  slavering  dogs  they  were. 

He  did  not  have  his  lambs  any  too  well  in  hand, 
however.  O.  B.  Taylor,  a  lovable  character  in  Num- 
ber One  Company,  came  to  his  end  here.  The  Ger- 
mans ordered  him  and  Hookie  Walker  to  go  back 
down  the  trench.  He  had  no  sooner  turned  to  do  so 
than  a  German  shot  him  from  behind  and  from  quite 
close,  so  that  it  blew  the  groin  completely  out,  mak- 
ing a  terrible  hole.  We  could  not  tie  up  so  bad  a 
wound  and  he  bled  to  death.  Hookie  Walker  re- 
mained with  him  to  the  last,  five  hours  later,  when 

46 


PRISONERS 


he  said:  "I'm  going  to  sleep  boys,"  and  did  so. 
Fortunately,  he  did  not  suffer.  And  all  the  others 
except  young  Cox  were  equally  fortunate,  since  they 
were  murdered  outright. 

Taylor's  was  the  most  calculated  of  all  the  mur- 
ders we  had  witnessed  and  outdid  even  those  of  the 
wounded  because  the  excitement  of  the  fight  was  two 
hours  old  and  he  was  doing  the  bidding  of  his  cap- 
tors at  the  time.  The  killing  of  those  who  resisted 
was  of  course  quite  in  order.  Why  he  was  killed 
while  Walker  was  left  unharmed  and  at  his  side  to 
the  last  we  did  not  know  and  could  only  credit  to  a 
whimsy  of  our  captors.  No  punishment  was  visited 
upon  his  murderer  or  upon  any  of  them  so  far  as  we 
were  able  to  learn. 

Upon  my  later  return  to  Canada  I  found  that  Tay- 
lor's sister  there  had  received  a  letter  from  a  Ger- 
man officer  enclosing  a  letter  addressed  to  her  which 
had  been  found  on  her  brother's  body,  together  with 
three  war  medals  and  a  Masonic  ring.  The  latter 
was  the  key  to  the  incident  since  the  officer  also 
claimed  to  have  been  a  Mason.  In  his  letter  this 
officer  said  that  her  brother  had  met  a  soldier's 
death ! 

47 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Some  said  that  our  friendly  officer  was  not  a 
German  but  an  Irishman.  I  doubted  that  but  it 
may  have  been  so,  for  it  was  true  that  his  speech 
contained  no  trace  of  the  accent  which  is  usually 
associated  with  a  German's  English  speech.  His 
was  that  of  an  English  gentleman.  And  to  him  we 
undoubtedly  owed  our  wretched  lives  that  day. 

I  in  particular  have  good  cause  to  be  grateful.  A 
German,  all  of  six  foot  four,  who  swung  a  tremen- 
dously broad  headsman's  axe  with  a  curved  blade, 
tried  several  times  to  get  at  me.  Each  time  the 
officer  stopped  him.  Still  he  persisted.  He  ap- 
parently saw  no  one  else  and  kept  his  eye  fastened 
on  me  with  deadly  intention  in  it.  He  pushed  aside 
the  others,  Prussians  and  prisoners  alike;  he  whirled 
the  shining  blade  high  above  a  face  lit  up  with  sav- 
age exultation,  terrible  to  see,  and  which  reflected 
the  sensual  revelling  of  his  heated  brain  in  the  bloody 
orgy  ahead.  As  I  followed  the  incredibly  rapid  mo- 
tions of  the  blade,  my  blood  turned  to  water.  My 
limbs  refused  to  act  and  my  mind  travelled  back 
over  the  years  to  a  little  Scottish  village  where  I 
had  been  used  to  sit  in  the  dark  corners  of  the  shoe- 
maker's shop,  listening  to  him  and  others  of  the 

48 


PRISONERS 


old  2nd  Gordons  recount  their  terrible  tales  of  the 
hill  men  on  the  march  to  Kandahar  with  "Bobs." 
And  now  I  felt  that  same  tremendous  sensation  of 
fear  which  used  to  send  me  trembling  to  my  childish 
pallet  in  the  croft,  peering  fearfully  through  the 
darkness  for  the  oiled  body  of  a  naked  Pathan  with 
his  corkscrew  kris.  Terror  swept  over  me  like  a 
springtime  flood.  He  saw  no  one  else.  His  eye 
fastened  on  me  in  crudest  hate.  But  as  he  stood  over 
me  with  feet  spread  wide  and  the  circle  of  his  axe's 
swing  broadening  for  the  finale,  the  thread  of  rabbit- 
like  mesmerism  broke  and  I  sprang  nimbly  aside  as 
the  blade  buried  itself  deep  in  the  mud  wall  I  had 
been  cowering  against.  I  endeavoured  to  dodge  him 
by  putting  some  of  my  fellow  prisoners  between  us. 
No  use.  He  followed  me,  shoving  and  cursing  his 
way  among  them,  swinging  his  axe.  My  hair  stood 
on  end  and  I  felt  rather  critical  of  their  much- 
vaunted  Prussian  discipline.  Another  endeavoured 
to  bayonet  Charlie  Scarfe.  The  officer  at  last 
stopped  them  both. 

Our  captors  belonged  to  the  Twenty-first  Prus- 
sian Regiment  and  were,  so  far  as  we  knew,  the 
first  of  their  kind  we  had  been  up  against,  all  pre- 
49 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

vious  comers  on  our  front  having  been  Bavarians 
and  latterly  of  the  army  group  of  Prince  Ruprecht 
of  Bavaria — "Rupie,"  we  called  him.  They  wore 
the  baggy  grey  clothes  and  clumsy  looking  leather 
top  boots  of  the  German  infantryman.  The  spiked 
'pickelhauben  was  conspicuous  by  its  absence  and  was, 
we  well  knew,  a  thing  only  of  billets  and  of  "swank" 
parades.  In  its  place  was  the  soft  pancake  trench 
cap  with  its  small  colored  button  in  the  front. 

The  enemy  were  armed  for  the  most  part  with 
pioneers'  bayonets,  as  well  adapted  by  reason  of  their 
saw  edges  for  sticking  flesh  and  blood  as  for  sawing 
wood;  and,  if  for  the  former,  an  unnecessarily  cruel 
weapon,  since  it  was  bound  to  stick  in  the  body  and 
badly  lacerate  it  internally  in  the  withdrawal;  espe- 
cially if  given  a  twist. 

The  trench  front  had  been  about-faced  since  its 
change  of  ownership  and  the  Germans  were  already 
casting  our  dead  out  of  the  shattered  trench,  both 
in  front  and  behind,  and  in  many  cases  using  them 
to  stop  the  gaps  in  the  parapet;  so  that  they  now 
received  the  bullets  of  their  erstwhile  comrades. 

We  were  ordered  up  and  out  at  the  back  of  the 
parapet  and  then  made  to  lie  there.  The  German 

50 


PRISONERS 


artillery  had  ceased.  We  had  none.  Odd  shots  from 
the  remnant  of  our  fellows  still  hanging  on  in  the 
supports  continued  to  come  over,  but  none  of  us 
were  hit.  In  all  probability,  they  withheld  their 
fire  when  they  saw  what  was  afoot.  Some  German 
snipers  in  a  farmhouse  at  the  rear  were  less  consid- 
erate, but  fortunately  failed  to  hit  us. 

Later  we  were  ordered  to  take  our  equipment  off 
and  those  who  had  coats,  to  shed  them.  We  did  not 
see  the  latter  again  and  missed  them  horribly  in  the 
rain  of  that  day.  Two  of  the  Prussians  "frisked" 
us  for  our  tobacco,  cigarettes,  knives  and  other  val- 
uables. 

This  was  in  bitter  contrast  to  our  own  treatment 
of  prisoners  under  similar  conditions.  True,  we  had 
always  searched  them  but  had  invariably  returned 
those  little  trinkets  and  comforts  which  to  a  soldier 
are  so  important.  And  I  think  our  men  had  always 
showered  them  with  food  and  tobacco. 

We  were  then  marched  to  the  rear,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  one,  who,  by  permission  of  the  officer,  re- 
mained with  the  dying  Taylor. 

There  were  ten  of  us  all  told.  I  have  only  heard 
of  a  few  others  who  were  captured  that  day.  Rob- 
Si 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

erts  is  still  in  Germany  and  Todeschi  has  been  ex- 
changed and  is  now  in  Toronto.  The  latter  lay  with 
a  boy  of  the  machine-gun  crew  for  a  couple  of  days 
in  a  dug-out,  both  badly  wounded.  A  German 
stumbled  on  to  them.  They  pleaded  for  water.  The 
German  said,  'Til  give  you  water"  and  bayoneted 
the  boy  as  he  lay.  He  raised  his  weapon  so  that 
the  blood  of  his  comrade  dripped  on  Todeschi's  face. 

"All  right,"  Todeschi  cried  in  German,  "kill  me 
too,  but  first  give  me  water,  you " 

The  German  lowered  his  rifle  in  amazement: 
"What,  you  schwein,  you  speak  the  good  German? 
Where  did  you  learn  it?" 

"In  your  schools.  For  Christ's  sake — give  me 
water — and  kill  me." 

"What!  You  live  with  us  and  then  do  this? 
Schwein!" 

"All  right,  I  will  give  you  water  and  I  will  not 
kill  you;  just  to  show  you  how  well  we  can  treat  a 
prisoner." 

Todeschi  was  then  taken  to  the  field  dressing  sta- 
tion where  according  to  his  own  account  his  mangled 
leg  was  amputated  without  the  use  of  any  anesthe- 

52 


PRISONERS 


tic.  But  that  may  have  been  because  in  such  a  time 
of  stress  they  had  none.  Later  he  was  exchanged. 

I  met  Scott  in  the  prison  camp  a  few  days  later 
and  he  told  his  tale.  It  appears  that  in  the  con- 
fusion of  the  earlier  fighting  he  had  become  sepa- 
rated from  the  regiment,  became  lost  and  eventually 
floundered  into  an  English  battalion.  He  reported 
to  the  officer  commanding  the  trench  and  told  his 
story.  The  officer  had  no  idea  where  the  Patricias 
lay  and  so  ordered  Scott  to  remain  with  them  until 
such  time  as  an  inquiry  might  establish  the  where- 
abouts of  his  regiment. 

They  were  captured,  but  under  less  exciting  cir- 
cumstances than  occurred  in  our  own  case.  And  the 
Germans  had  word  that  there  was  a  Canadian 
amongst  these  English  troops.  It  was  one  of  the 
first  things  mentioned.  They  did  not  say  how  they 
had  acquired  their  information,  but  shouted  out  a 
request  for  the  man  to  stand  forth.  When  no  one 
complied,  they  questioned  each  man  separately,  ask- 
ing him  if  he  was  a  Canadian  or  knew  aught  of  one 
in  that  trench. 

They  all  lied :  "No."  The  Germans  were  so  cer- 
53 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

tain  that  they  again  went  over  each  man  in  turn, 
examining  him. 

Scott  was  at  the  end  of  the  line.  He  began  to 
cut  the  Canadian  buttons  off  his  coat  and  to  remove 
his  badges.  Several  men  near  by  assisted  and  re- 
placed them  with  such  of  their  own  as  they  could 
spare;  each  man  perhaps  contributing  a  button. 
They  had  no  thread  nor  time  to  use  it  if  they  had, 
so  tacked  the  buttons  into  place  by  all  manner  of 
makeshifts,  such  as  broken  ends  of  matches  thrust 
through  holes  punched  in  the  cloth ;  anything  to  hold 
the  buttons  in  place  and  tide  the  hunted  Scott  over 
the  inspection.  He  passed.  The  Germans  were 
quite  furious. 

Scott  and  his  companions  could  only  guess  at  the 
cause  of  this  strange  conduct,  but  presumed  that  the 
Canadian  was  wanted  for  special  treatment  of  an 
unfavorable,  if  not  of  a  final  nature. 

To  return  to  our  own  case : 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  were  herded 
by  our  guards  into  a  shallow  depression  a  short  dis- 
tance in  the  rear  of  the  trench  and  there  told  to  lie 
down.  The  officer  and  his  men  returned  to  the 
trench.  Until  we  were  taken  back  to  the  trench  at 

54 


PRISONERS 


six  we  were  continually  sniped  at  by  the  Germans 
in  the  captured  trench.  We  had  no  recourse  but  to 
make  ourselves  as  small  as  possible,  which  we  did. 
And  whether  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  hollow  we 
were  lying  in  prevented  our  being  actually  within 
the  range  of  the  enemy  vision,  or  whether  they  were 
merely  playing  cat  and  mouse  with  us,  I  do  not 
know,  but  none  were  hit.  Young  Cox  suffered  stoi- 
cally. His  mangled  hand  had  become  badly  fouled 
with  dirt  and  filth,  and  the  ragged  bones  protruded 
through  the  broken  flesh.  So,  in  a  quiet  interval  be- 
tween the  sniping  periods  we  hurriedly  sawed  the 
shattered  stump  of  his  hand  off  with  our  clasp  knives 
and  bound  it  up  as  best  we  could.  It  was  not  a  nice 
task,  for  him  nor  us,  but  he  did  not  so  much  as  grunt 
during  the  operation.  The  nearest  he  came  to  com- 
plaining was  when  he  asked  me  to  let  him  lay  his 
hand  across  my  body  to  ease  it,  at  the  same  time  re- 
marking: "I  guess  when  they  get  us  to  Germany 
they'll  let  us  write,  and  I'll  be  able  to  write  mother 
and  then  she'll  not  know  I've  lost  my  hand."  He 
was  a  most  valiant  and  faithful  soldier. 

The  perpetual  rain  and  mist  peculiar  to  that  low- 
lying  land  added  to  our  wretched  condition  and  in- 

55 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

creased  the  pain  of  the  wounds  that  most  of  us  suf- 
fered from. 

At  six  o'clock  our  guards  returned  and  curtly 
ordered  us  to  our  feet.  We  were  taken  back  to  the 
trench,  where  our  officer  friend  had  us  searched 
again.  Here  for  the  first  time  my  two  corporal's 
stripes  were  noticed  and  a  mild  excitement  ensued. 
"Korporal !  Korporal !"  they  exclaimed  and  crowded 
up  the  better  to  inspect  me  and  verify  the  report, 
and  jabbering  "Ja!  Ja!"  Apparently  a  captured 
corporal  was  a  rarity.  Strangely  enough,  they  paid 
little  or  no  attention  to  the  sergeant  of  our  party,  al- 
though he  had  the  three  stripes  of  his  rank  up. 

As  I  happened  to  be  in  the  lead  of  our  party  and 
the  first  to  enter  the  trench,  I  was  the  first  man 
searched  and  so  had  to  await  the  examination  of  the 
others.  Worn  out  by  the  events  of  the  day  and 
the  wound  I  had  received  early  in  the  morning  from 
a  shell  fragment,  I  fell  asleep  against  the  wall  of  the 
trench  where  I  sat. 

I  was  awakened  by  a  poke  in  the  ribs  from  Scarfe. 
"Time  to  shift,  mate." 

I  rose  to  my  feet  and,  following  the  instructions 
of  the  officer,  led  the  way  along  the  trench.  The 

56 


PRISONERS 


Germans  had  already,  with  their  usual  industry,  got- 
ten the  trench  into  some  sort  of  shape  again,  with 
the  parapet  shifted  over  to  the  other  side  and  facing 
Belle-waarde  Wood.  And  everywhere  along  its 
length  I  noticed  the  bodies  of  our  dead  built  into 
it  to  replace  sandbags  while  others  lay  on  the  parados 
at  the  rear. 

It  was  not  nice.  The  faces  of  men  we  had  known 
and  had  called  comrade  looked  at  us  now  in  ghastly 
disarray  from  odd  sections  of  both  walls.  Already 
they  were  taking  a  brick-like  shape  from  the  weight 
of  the  filled  bags  on  top  of  them.  In  places  the  legs 
and  arms  protruded,  brushing  us  as  we  passed.  How- 
ever, this  was  war  and  quite  ethical. 

Naturally  we  had  to  crowd  by  the  other  occupants 
of  the  trench.  And  each  took  a  poke  at  us  as  we 
went  by,  some  with  their  bayonets,  saying:  "Ver- 
damnt  Englander"  and:  "Englander  Schwein," — 
pigs  of  English.  Also  quite  a  number  of  them  spoke 
English  after  a  fashion.  There  was  in  these  men 
none  of  the  soldier's  usual  tolerance  or  good-natured 
pity  for  an  enemy  who  had  fought  well  and  had  then 
succumbed  to  the  fortunes  of  war.  Instead,  a  blind 

57 


and  vicious  rage  which  took  no  account  of  our  help- 
less condition. 

They  cuffed  us,  they  buffeted  us,  they  pricked 
us  cruelly  with  their  saw  bayonets  and  then  laughed 
and  sneered  as  we  flinched  and  dodged  awkwardly 
aside.  Then  they  cursed  us. 

Shortly,  we  were  led  into  the  presence  of  a  man 
whom  I  shall  remember  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred. 
He  wore  glasses  and  on  his  upper  lip  there  bloomed 
such  a  dainty  moustache  as  is  affected  by  "Little 
Willie"  as  Tommy  calls  the  German  Crown  Prince. 
He  had  the  eye  of  a  rat.  It  snapped  so  cruel  a  hate 
that  one's  blood  stopped. 

He  seized  me  by  the  right  shoulder  with  his  left 
hand :  "You  Corporal !  You  Corporal !"  as  though 
that  fact  of  itself  condemned  me,  and  at  the  same 
time  tugging  at  his  holster  until  he  found  his  re- 
volver, which  he  placed  against  my  temple.  Then 
and  there  I  fervently  prayed  that  he  would  pull  the 
trigger  and  end  it  all.  I  was  fed  up.  The  all-day 
bombardment,  the  last  terrible  slaughter  of  helpless 
men,  the  rain  and  cold,  combining  with  the  pain  of 
the  raw  wound  in  my  side,  had  gotten  on  my  nerves. 

58 


PRISONERS 


With  the  revolver  still  at  my  head  I  turned  to  Scarfe : 
"They're  going  to  do  us  in,  Charlie.  I  only  hope 
they'll  do  it  proper.  None  of  that  bayonet  stuff. 
Bullets  for  me."  Already  the  Prussians  were  crowd- 
ing round  us  threateningly  again,  with  their  saw- 
edged  bayonets  ready,  some  fixed  in  the  rifle,  others 
clasped  short,  like  daggers,  for  such  a  butchering  as 
they  had  had  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  had 
been  so  nearly  axed. 

"Might  as  well  kill  us  outright  as  scare  us  to 
death,"  complained  Scarfe  bitterly. 

Nevertheless  our  hearts  leaped  when  a  moment 
later  our  mysterious  black  officer  friend  hove  in 
sight.  Life  is  sweet. 

He  asked  them  what  they  did  with  us.  The  tab- 
leau answered  for  itself  before  the  words  had  left  his 
lips.  And  then  we  had  to  listen  to  our  fate  dis- 
cussed in  language  and  gesture  so  eloquent  and  so 
fraught  with  terrible  importance  to  us  that  our  sen- 
sitized minds  could  miss  no  smallest  point  of  each 
fine  shade  of  cruel  meaning. 

"Little  Willie"  thought  it  scarce  worth  their  while 
to  bother  with  so  small  a  bag;  that  it  would  not  be 

59 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

worth  the  trouble  to  send  a  miserable  ten  of  Ver- 
damnt  Engldnder  back  to  the  Fatherland — Better 
to  kill  them  like  the  swine  they  were. 

Our  blood  froze  to  hear  the  man  and  to  see  the 
poison  of  that  rat  soul  of  his  exuding  from  his  every 
pore,  in  every  gesture  and  in  each  fresh  inflection  of 
his  rasping  voice.  And  all  his  men  shouted  their 
fierce  approval  and  shook  in  our  faces  their  bloody 
butcher's  bayonets.  It  was  a  bitter  draught.  If  they 
had  killed  us  then  it  would  have  had  to  have  been 
done  in  most  cold  blood,  exceeding  even  the  murder 
of  Taylor  in  planned  brutality.  He  at  least  had 
not  known  that  it  was  coming  and  had  not  felt  this 
insane  fear  which  we  now  experienced  and  which 
made  us  wonder  how  they  would  do  it.  Would  each 
have  to  watch  the  other's  end*?  And  would  it  be 
done  by  bullet  or  by  bayonet*?  We  greatly  feared 
it  would  be  the  latter.  We  pictured  ourselves  held 
down  as  hogs  are — our  throats  slit ! 

The  dark  officer  thought  otherwise  and  minced 
no  words  in  the  saying.  Our  hearts  leapt  out  to  him 
warmly,  in  gratitude. 

He  sharply  ordered  them  to  desist,  at  which  they 
60 


PRISONERS 


slunk  sullenly  away,  as  hungry  dogs  do  from  a  bone. 
I  felt  an  uncomfortable  physical  sensation  and  ran 
my  hand  uneasily  beneath  my  shirt.    I  was  covered 
with  a  fine  sweat. 


61 


CHAPTER  VII 

PULLING  THE  LEG  OF  A  GERMAN  GENERAL 

Polygon  Wood  and  Picadilly  Again — German  Headquar- 
ters— Surprising  Kitchener — "Your  Infantry's  No  Good" 
— The  Germans  Give  Us  News  of  the  Regiment. 

WE  were  then  escorted  under  heavy  guard  out 
over  the  fields  in  the  rear,  past  the  nearby  farm- 
house, which  was  simply  filled  with  snipers.  The 
latter,  however,  did  not  shoot  at  us,  presumably  be- 
cause they  might  have  hit  some  of  our  numerous 
guards.  We  seemed  to  be  working  right  through 
the  heart  of  the  German  Army.  Everywhere  the 
troops  were  massed.  Along  the  road  they  lay  in 
solid  formation  on  both  sides.  If  we  had  had  artil- 
lery to  play  on  them  now  they  would  have  suffered 
tremendous  losses.  The  whole  countryside  presented 
a  living  target.  All  the  way  they  shouted  "Schwein" 
and  taunted  us  in  both  languages.  Every  shell-hole, 
farmhouse,  hut,  dugout  and  old  trench  on  the  three- 

62 


PULLING  THE  LEG  OF  A  GERMAN  GENERAL 

mile  stretch  between  the  Front  and  Polygon  Wood 
contributed  its  quota. 

The  regiment  had  evacuated  Polygon  Wood  on 
the  night  of  the  third.  Across  the  old  trail  our  fa- 
tigue parties  had  tramped  new  ones  in  the  mud,  up 
past  Regent  Street,  Leicester  Square  and  Piccadily. 
We  passed  them  all. 

We  were  marched  over  to  the  little  settlement  of 
pine-bough  huts  which  the  regiment  had  previously 
taken  over  from  the  French.  The  men  with  me 
greeted  them  like  old  friends.  Here  was  the  Sniper's 
Hut,  there  the  Commanding  Officer's.  This  was  the 
hut  in  which  the  brave  Joe  Waldron  had  "gone 
West,"  that  on  the  site  of  one  where  fourteen  of 
"ours"  had  stopped  a  shell  while  they  slept.  Mem- 
ories submerged  us  and  made  us  weak.  Even  the 
guiding  rope  that  our  men  had  used  to  hold  them- 
selves to  the  trail  of  nights  still  held  its  place  for 
groping  German  hands. 

Beside  it  lay  the  fragments  of  the  French  sign- 
boards, jocular  advertisements  of  mud  baths  for 
trench  fever,  the  hotel  this  and  the  maison  that. 
One  of  my  companions  pointed  to  a  larger  hut  which 
he  said  our  fellows  had  called  the  Hotel  Cecil.  The 

63 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

board  was  missing  now.  And  no  German  signboard 
took  its  place.  Their  wit  did  not  run  in  so  richly 
innocent  a  channel. 

The  huts  lay  just  off  the  race  track  in  front  of  the 
ruined  chateau,  buried  deep  in  the  remnants  of  what 
had  once  been  the  beautiful  park  of  a  large  country 
estate.  These  huts  were  now  the  German  head- 
quarters. 

There  was  as  much  English  as  German  talked 
there  that  day.  Everywhere  there  was  cooking  go- 
ing on,  mostly  in  portable  camp  kitchens. 

As  we  came  to  a  halt  one  big  fellow  smoking  a 
pipe  observed  nonchalantly:  "You  fellows  are 
lucky.  Our  orders  were  to  take  no  Canadian  pris- 
oners." 

The  man  was  so  casual,  so  utterly  matter-of-fact 
and  there  was  about  his  remark  so  simple  an  air  of 
directness  and  of  finality  that  there  was  no  escaping 
his  sincerity,  unduly  interested  though  we  were. 

Another  officer  said  "Englander?" 

The  big  fellow  said  "Kanadien."  The  other  raised 
his  brows  and  shoulders:  "Uhh!" 

A  younger  officer  came  up:  "Never  mind,  boys: 
Your  turn  to-day.  Might  be  mine  to-morrow." 

64 


WOUNDED    CANADIANS    RECEIVING    FIRST    AID    IN    A    SUPPORT   TRENCH 
AFTER    AN    ATTACK. 


PULLING  THE  LEG  OF  A  GERMAN  GENERAL 

Turning  to  the  others,  he  too  said:     "Englander4?" 
"No!    Canadian." 

"Oh!"  And  he  appeared  to  be  pleasantly  sur- 
prised. He  asked  me  for  a  souvenir  and  pointed  to 
the  brass  Canada  shoulder  straps  and  the  red  cloth 
"P.  P.  C.  L.  I.'s"  on  the  shoulders  of  the  others. 
But  I  had  already  shoved  my  few  trinkets  down  my 
puttees  while  lying  back  of  the  trench  that  after- 
noon. Scarfe,  however,  gave  up  his  "Canada"  straps. 

The  young  officer  gave  him  in  return  a  carved  nut 
with  silver  filigree  work  and  gave  another  man  a 
silver  crucifix  for  the  bronze  maple  leaves  from  the 
collar  of  his  tunic.  And,  more  important  still,  he 
gave  us  all  a  cigarette,  while  he  had  a  sergeant  give 
us  coffee. 

That,  the  cigarette,  was  I  think  much  the  best  of 
anything  we  received  then  or  for  some  time  to  come. 
Since  the  bombardment  and  our  wounding,  our 
nerves  had  fairly  ached  for  the  sedative  which,  good, 
bad  or  indifferent,  would  steady  the  quivering  harp 
strings  of  our  nerves.  And  a  cigarette  did  that. 

The  headquarters  staff  appeared  on  the  scene. 
They  wanted  information,  just  as  ours  would  have 
done  under  similar  circumstances,  but  these  took  a 

65 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

different  method  to  acquire  it.  As  before,  in  the 
trench,  they  selected  me  for  the  spokesman.  The 
senior  officer,  a  general  apparently,  addressed  me: 
"How  many  troops  are  there  in  front  of  our  attack?" 

I  lied:     "I  don't  know." 

He  shook  a  threatening  finger  at  me.  "I'll  tell  you 
this,  my  man :  We  have  a  pretty  good  idea  of  how 
many  troops  lay  behind  you  and  if  in  any  particular 
you  endeavour  to  lead  us  astray  it  will  go  very  hard 
with  all  of  you.  Now  answer  my  question !"  His 
English  was  good. 

I  cogitated.  It  would  not  do  to  tell  him  the  ter- 
rible truth.  That  was  certain.  So  I  took  a  chance. 
"Three  divisions."  He  appeared  to  be  satisfied. 
The  fact  was,  there  were  none  behind  us.  We  were 
utterly  without  supporting  troops. 

"And  Kitchener's  Army?  How  many  of  them 
are  there  here?" 

"Why,  they  haven't  even  come  over  yet,  sir." 

"Don't  tell  me  that :  I  know  better.  They've  been 
out  here  for  months." 

"But  they  haven't,"  I  persisted.  I  told  the  truth 
this  time. 

"Yes,"  he  shouted  angrily. 
66 


PULLING  THE  LEG  OF  A  GERMAN  GENERAL 

"No,"  I  flung  back. 

"Well,  how  many  of  them  are  there?" 

The  division  yarn  had  gone  down  well.  And  per- 
haps I  was  slightly  heated.  My  spirit  ran  ahead  of 
my  judgment.  "Five  and  a  half  to  seven  million,"  I 
said. 

He  exploded.  And  called  me  everything  but  a 
soldier.  I  could  not  help  but  reflect  that  I  had  over- 
done it  a  bit.  And  I  certainly  thought  that  I  was 
"for  it"  then  and  there. 

To  make  matters  worse  he  asked  the  others  and 
they,  profiting  by  my  mistake  and  following  the  lead 
of  the  first  man  questioned,  put  Kitchener's  army  at 
four  and  a  half  million;  which  was  only  a  trifle  of 
four  million  out.  So  I  determined  to  be  reasonable. 
When  he  came  to  me  again  I  confirmed  the  latter  fig- 
ure, explaining  my  earlier  statement  by  my  lack  of 
exact  knowledge.  And  so  that  particular  storm  blew 
over. 

The  general  came  back  to  me  again.  "You  Ca- 
nadians thought  this  was  going  to  be  a  picnic,  didn't 
you?"  He  was  very  sarcastic. 

"No,  we  didn't,  sir." 

67 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

"Well,  you  thought  it  was  going  to  be  a  walk 
through  to  Berlin,  didn't  you1?" 

"Why,  no.  We  thought  it  was  the  other  way 
about,  sir,"  I  ventured. 

He  shifted :  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of  us  any- 
how4?" 

"Your  artillery  was  all  right  but  your  infantry 
was  no  good."  I  began  to  feel  shaky  again.  How- 
ever, he  took  that  calmly  enough. 

"Oh !    So  our  infantry  was  no  good." 

"We  could  have  held  them  all  right,  sir." 

He  ruminated  on  that  a  moment,  rumbled  in  his 
throat  and  abruptly  changed  the  subject,  in  an  un- 
pleasant fashion,  however. 

"You're  the  fellows  we  want  to  get  hold  of.  You 
cut  the  throats  of  our  wounded." 

I  denied  it  and  we  argued  back  and  forth  over 
that  for  several  minutes,  and  very  heatedly.  He  re- 
ferred to  St.  Julien  and  said  that  this  thing  had  oc- 
curred there.  I  said  and  quite  truthfully  that  we 
had  not  been  at  St.  Julien,  that  we  were  in  the  Im- 
perial and  not  the  Canadian  Army  and  had  been 
spectators  in  near-by  trenches  of  the  St.  Julien  af- 
fair. I  even  went  into  some  detail  to  explain  that 

68 


PULLING  THE  LEG  OF  A  GERMAN  GENERAL 

we  were  a  special  corps  of  old  soldiers  who,  not  be- 
ing able  to  rejoin  their  old  regiments,  had  at  the  out- 
break of  war  formed  one  of  their  own  and  had  been 
accepted  as  such  and  sent  to  France  months  ahead 
of  the  Canadian  contingent.  I  added  that  I  myself 
had  just  rejoined  the  regiment,  having  got  my 
"Blighty"  in  March  at  St.  Eloi  and  as  proof  of  my 
other  statements  I  further  volunteered  that  I  was 
one  of  the  2nd  Gordons  and  after  the  South  African 
War  had  gone  to  Canada  where  I  had  finished  my 
reserve  several  years  since. 

He  listened  but  was  plainly  unconvinced.  An- 
other officer  broke  in :  "I  can  explain  it,  sir.  These 
men  were  in  the  Both  Brigade  and  the  2yth  Division. 
Colonel  Farquhar  was  their  Commanding  Officer  and 
Captain  Buller  took  command  when  Colonel  Far- 
quhar was  killed."  We  stared  at  one  another  in 
amazement,  for  it  was  all  quite  true. 

This  finished  that  examination.  We  did  not  tell 
them  that  Colonel  Buller  had  been  blinded  a  few 
days  before  and  had  been  succeeded  by  that  Major 
Hamilton  Gault  who  had  been  so  largely  instru- 
mental in  raising  us. 

None  of  our  wounds  had  received  the  slightest 
69 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

attention.  Cox  in  particular  suffered  cruelly  but 
refused  to  whimper.  Royston's  head  was  swollen  to 
the  size  of  a  water  bucket  and  he  was  in  great  pain. 
We  left  them  here  and  never  saw  them  again.  Cox 
died  two  weeks  later  of  a  blood  poisoning  which 
was  the  combined  result  of  our  rough  surgery  and 
the  wanton  neglect  of  our  captors.  I  do  not  think 
he  was  ever  able  to  write  his  mother  as  he  wished. 
At  least  she  wrote  me  later  for  information.  There 
was  no  need  of  his  dying  even  though  it  might  have 
been  necessary  to  have  amputated  his  arm  higher 
up.  Royston  was  exchanged  to  Switzerland  and  re- 
covered from  his  wounds  except  for  the  loss  of  an 
eye. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  PRINCESS  PATRICIA'S  GERMAN  UNCLE 

Roulers — The  Old  Woman  and  the  Gentle  Uhlans — Bil- 
leted in  a  Church — Quizzed  by  a  Prince. 

WE  were  marched  to  Roulers,  which  we  reached 
well  after  dark.  A  considerable  crowd  of  soldiers 
and  civilians  awaited  our  coming.  The  Belgian 
women  and  children  congregated  in  front  of  the 
church  while  we  waited  to  be  let  in,  and  threw  us 
apples  and  cigarettes.  The  uhlans  and  infantrymen 
rushed  them  with  the  flat  side  of  their  swords  and 
the  butts  of  their  muskets;  and  mistreated  them. 
They  knocked  one  old  woman  down  quite  close  to 
where  I  stood.  So  we  had  to  do  without  and  were 
not  even  permitted  to  pick  up  the  gifts  that  lay  at 
our  feet,  much  less  the  old  woman. 

The  church  had  been  used  as  a  stable  quite  re- 
cently and  the  stone-flagged  floor  was  deep  with  the 
decayed  straw  and  accumulated  filth  of  men  and 
horses.  We  lay  down  in  it  and  got  what  rest  we 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

could  for  the  remainder  of  the  night.  There  were 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  prisoners  in  all — Shrop- 
shires,  Cheshires,  King's  Royal  Rifles  and  other  Brit- 
ish regiments — all  from  our  division  and  mostly 
from  our  brigade.  Other  small  parties  continued  to 
come  in  during  the  night,  but  there  were  no  more 
P.  P.'s.  In  the  morning  a  large  tub  of  water  was 
carried  in  and  each  man  was  given  a  bit  of  black 
bread  and  a  slice  of  raw  fat  bacon.  The  latter  was 
salty  and  so  thoroughly  unappetizing  that  I  cannot 
recall  that  any  one  ate  his  ration,  for  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  we  had  been  twenty-four  hours  without 
food,  we  were  so  upset  by  the  experiences  we  had 
undergone,  so  shattered  by  shell  fire  and  lack  of  rest 
that  we  were  perhaps  inclined  to  be  more  critical 
of  our  food  than  normal  men  would  have  been. 

Shortly  afterward  a  high  German  officer  came  in 
with  his  staff.  He  was  a  stout  and  well-built  man 
of  middle  age  or  over,  typically  German  in  his  gen- 
eral characteristics  but  not  half  bad  looking.  His 
uniform  was  covered  with  braid  and  medals.  Every 
one  paid  him  the  utmost  deference.  He  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  the  room. 

"Are  there  any  Canadians  here*?" 
72 


THE  PRINCESS  PATRICIA'S  GERMAN  UNCLE 

I  stepped  forward.     "Yes,  sir." 

"I  mean  the  Princess  Patricia's  Canadians." 

"Yes,  sir.  I  am.  And  here's  some  more  of  them," 
and  I  pointed  at  the  prostrate  figures  of  my  com- 
panions, where  they  sprawled  on  the  flagstones. 

"Princess  Patricia's  Regiment*?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  the  Princess  Patricia  is  my  niece — awfully 
nice  girl.  I  hope  it  won't  be  long  before  I  see  her 
again." 

I  grinned :  "Well,  I  hope  it  won't  be  long  before 
I  see  her,  too,  sir." 

The  other  fellows  joined  us,  the  straw  and  the 
smell  of  it  still  sticking  to  their  clothes  as  they 
formed  a  little  knot  about  the  Prince  and  his  staff. 

The  scene  was  incongruous,  the  smart  uniforms  of 
the  immaculately  kept  staff  officers  contrasting 
strangely  with  our  own  unkempt  foulness.  We  oc- 
cupied the  centre  of  the  stage.  Around  us  were 
grouped  the  men  of  our  sister  regiments,  most  of 
them  lying  on  the  floor  in  a  dazed  condition.  There 
were  few  who  came  forward  to  listen.  They  were 
too  tired,  and  to  them  at  least,  this  was  merely  an 
incident — one  of  a  thousand  more  important  ones. 

73 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Odd  parts  of  clothes  hung  on  the  ornate  images 
and  decorations  of  the  room.  A  German  rifle  hung 
by  its  sling  from  the  patient  neck  of  a  life-sized 
Saviour,  while  further  over,  the  vermin-infested  shirt 
of  a  Britisher  hung  over  the  rounded  breasts  of  a 
brooding  Madonna,  with  the  Infant  in  her  lap. 

At  the  door  a  small  group  of  guards  stood  stiffly 
to  a  painful  attention  and  continued  so  to  do  whilst 
royalty  touched  them  with  the  shadow  of  its  wings. 

The  Prince  questioned  us  further  and  I  told  him 
that  I  had  been  on  a  guard  of  honor  to  the  Prin- 
cess when  she  had  been  a  child  and  when  her  father, 
the  Duke  of  Connaught  had  been  the  General  Officer 
Commanding  at  Aldershot. 

He  laughed  back  at  us  and  was  altogether  very 
friendly.  "You'll  go  to  a  good  camp  and  you'll  be 
all  right  if  you  behave  yourselves." 

Scarfe  shoved  in  his  oar  here,  grousing  in  good 
British-soldier  fashion:  "I  don't  call  it  very  good 
treatment  when  they  steal  the  overcoats  from 
wounded  men." 

"Who  did  that?"  He  was  all  steel,  and  I  saw 
a  change  come  over  the  officers  of  the  staff. 

"The  chaps  that  took  us  prisoners,"  said  Scarfe. 
74 


THE  PRINCESS  PATRICIA'S  GERMAN  UNCLE 

"What  regiment  were  they*?"  The  Prince  glanced 
at  an  aide,  who  hastily  drew  out  a  notebook  and 
began  to  take  down  our  replies. 

"The  2 1st  Prussians,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  the  men?" 

"Their  faces  but  not  their  names." 

"Of  what  rank  was  the  officer  in  charge?" 

We  did  not  know,  but  thought  him  a  company 
officer  of  the  rank  of  captain  perhaps.  He  asked 
for  other  particulars  which  we  gave  to  the  best  of 
our  knowledge. 

"I'll  attend  to  that,"  he  said.  However,  we  heard 
no  more  of  it.  We  refrained  from  complaining 
about  the  actual  ill-treatment  and  indignities  we  had 
been  subjected  to,  the  murder  of  our  unoffending 
comrades,  or  the  lack  of  attention  to  our  wounds,  as 
we  rightly  judged  that  we  should  only  have  earned 
the  enmity  of  our  guards. 

"May  I  have  your  ca™  badge?"  the  Prince  asked, 
decently  enough. 

I  lied  brazenly:     "Sorry,  sir;  I've  lost  mine." 

The  fact  was  I  had  shoved  it  down  under  my 
puttees  while  lying  back  of  the  trench  the  previous 
afternoon. 

75 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Scarfe  said :  "You  can  have  mine,  sir." 
He  took  it.  "Thanks  so  much."  He  glanced  at 
the  aide  again;  rather  sharply  this  time,  I  thought. 
The  latter  blushed  and  hastily  extracted  a  wallet, 
from  which  he  handed  Scarfe  a  two-mark  piece,  equal 
to  one  and  ten  pence,  or  forty-four  cents.  He  gave 
us  his  name  before  leaving,  and  my  recollection  is 
that  it  was  something  like  Eitelbert.  Evidently  he 
was  a  brother  of  the  Duchess  of  Connaught,  whom 
we  knew  to  have  been  a  German  princess  whose 
brothers  and  other  male  relatives  all  enjoyed  high 
commands  among  our  foes. 


CHAPTER  IX 

How  THE  GERMAN  RED  CROSS  TENDED  THE 
CANADIAN  WOUNDED 

"Come  Out  Canadians '."—The  Crucifixion— "Nix !  Nix!" 
— Civilian  Hate — "Englander  Schwein!" 

WE  remained  in  the  fouled  church  all  of  that  day 
and  night  and  until  the  following  morning.  No 
more  food  appeared.  We  were  marched  down  to  the 
railroad  under  heavy  escort,  crowded  into  freight 
cars  and  locked  in.  The  guards  were  distributed  in 
cars  of  their  own,  alternating  with  ours.  Our 
wounds  remained  unattended  to. 

At  every  station  they  thundered :  "Come  out,  Ca- 
nadians !"  They  lined  us  up  in  a  row  while  a  staff 
officer  put  the  same  questions  to  us  in  nearly  every 
case.  They  were  particularly  interested  in  the  qual- 
ity of  our  rations  and  asked  if  it  was  not  true  that 
we  were  starving  and  if  our  pay  had  not  been 
stopped.  The  guards  invariably  explained  to  the 

77 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

civilians  that  these  were  the  Canadians  who  had  cut 
the  throats  of  the  German  wounded. 

We  did  not  know  how  to  explain  the  prevalence 
of  this  impression.  On  the  contrary,  we  were  aware 
of  the  story  of  the  crucifixion  of  three  of  the  Ca- 
nadian Division  during  Ypres.  The  tale  had  come 
smoking  hot  to  our  men  in  the  Polygon  Wood 
trenches  during  the  great  battle.  It  gave  in  great 
detail  all  the  salient  facts  which  were  that  after  re- 
capturing certain  lost  positions,  the  men  of  a  certain 
regiment  had  discovered  the  body  of  one  of  their  ser- 
geants, together  with  those  of  two  privates,  crucified 
on  the  doors  of  a  cowshed  and  a  barn.  German 
bayonets  had  been  driven  through  their  hands  and 
feet  and  their  contorted  faces  gave  every  appearance 
of  their  having  died  in  great  agony.  This  story  was 
and  is  generally  believed  throughout  all  ranks  of  the 
Canadian  Army.  For  its  truth  I  cannot  vouch. 

We  knew  that  our  own  men  had  never  mistreated 
any  prisoners  and  had  in  fact  usually  done  quite  the 
reverse.  How  far  other  regiments  may  have  gone 
in  retaliation  for  what  was  known  as  "The  Crucifix- 
ion," it  is  impossible  to  say.  That  prisoners  may 
have  been  killed  is  possible,  for  such  things  become 

78 


THE  GERMAN  RED  CROSS 


an  integral  part  of  war  once  the  enemy  has  so  of- 
fended. But  we  could  not  believe  that  there  had 
been  any  cutting  of  throats  as  that  would  imply  a 
sheer  cold-bloodedness  that  we  could  not  stomach. 

The  mob  surged  around  and  reviled  us,  while  the 
guards,  in  high  good  humour,  translated  their  re- 
marks, unless,  as  was  frequently  the  case,  they  were 
made  to  the  officials  in  English  for  our  benefit.  The 
other  British  soldiers  were  left  in  their  cars. 

Our  wounded  were  getting  very  badly  off  by  this 
time.  It  was  impossible  to  avoid  trampling  on  one 
another  as  the  car  was  very  dark  at  best  and  the  one 
small  window  in  the  roof  was  closed  as  soon  as  we 
drew  into  a  station.  When  taken  out  we  were  un- 
der heavy  escort  and  were  allowed  no  opportunity  to 
clean  up  the  accumulated  filth  of  the  car.  We  suf- 
fered terribly  for  food  and  water,  and  some  of  the 
wounds  began  to  turn,  so  that  what  with  exhaustion 
and  all,  we  grew  very  weak. 

At  one  station  the  guards  took  us  out  and  made  us 
line  up  to  watch  them  eat  of  a  hearty  repast  which 
the  Red  Cross  women  had  just  brought  them.  And 
we  were  very  hungry.  When,  we  too,  asked  for  food 
they  said:  "Nix!  Nix!"  The  crowds  met  us  at 

79 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

every  station  and  included  women  of  all  classes, 
who  called  us  Engldnder  Schwein  and  who  at  no 
time  gave  us  the  slightest  assistance,  but,  instead, 
devoted  themselves  to  the  guard. 

Other  men  told  us  later  that  Red  Cross  women 
had  spat  in  their  drinking  water  and  in  their  food. 
There  was  no  opportunity  for  this  in  our  case  as  we 
did  not  receive  any  of  either. 

We  did  not  receive  any  food  during  this  trip, 
which  lasted  from  the  morning  of  one  day  until  the 
night  of  the  next.  We  had  gone  since  the  day  of 
our  capture  on  the  coffee  received  at  headquarters  in 
Polygon  Wood  and  the  single  issue  of  bread,  water 
and  bacon  received  in  the  church,  the  latter  of  which 
we  could  not  eat;  a  total  of  three  days  and  nights 
on  that  one  issue  of  rations. 

We  pulled  into  Giessen  at  eleven,  the  night  of 
May  tenth.  The  citizens  made  a  Roman  holiday  of 
the  occasion  and  the  entire  population  turned  out  to 
see  the  Engldnder  Schwein.  There  was  a  guard  for 
every  prisoner,  and  two  lines  of  fixed  bayonets.  The 
mob  surged  around,  heaping  on  us  insults  and  blows ; 
particularly  the  women.  With  hate  in  their  eyes, 
they  spat  on  us.  We  had  to  take  that  or  the  bayo- 

80 


THE  GERMAN  RED  CROSS 


net.  These  were  the  acts  not  only  of  the  rabble, 
but  also  of  the  people  of  good  appearance  and  ad- 
dress. 

One  very  well-dressed  woman  rushed  up.  Under 
other  circumstances  I  should  have  judged  her  to 
have  been  a  gentlewoman.  She  shrieked  invectives 
at  us  as  she  forced  her  way  through  the  crowd. 
"Schwein!"  she  screamed,  and  struck  at  the  man 
next  me.  He  snapped  his  shoulders  back  as  a  sol- 
dier does  at  attention.  Then,  drawing  deep  from  the 
very  bottom  of  her  lungs,  she  spat  the  mass  full  in 
his  face.  The  muscles  of  his  face  twitched  painfully 
but  he  held  his  eyes  to  the  front  and  stared  past  his 
tormentor,  seeing  other  things. 


81 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  CURIOUS  CONCOCTIONS  OF  THE  CHEF  AT 

GlESSEN 

Oliver  Twist  at  Giessen — Acorn  Coffee  and  Shadow  Soup 
— Chestnut  Soup — Fostering  Racial  Hatred. 

WE  had  a  mile-and-a-half  march  to  the  prison 
camp.  Those  who  were  past  walking  were  put  in 
street  cars  and  sent  to  the  laager,  where  upon  our 
arrival  we  were  shoved  into  huts  for  the  night,  sup- 
perless,  of  course.  This  was  our  introduction  to  the 
prison  camp  of  Giessen. 

The  next  morning  we  each  received  three-quarters 
of  a  pint  of  acorn  coffee,  so  called,  horrible-tasting 
stuff;  and  a  loaf  of  black  bread — half  potatoes  and 
half  rye — weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  grams, 
or  a  little  more  than  half  a  pound,  among  five 
men.  This  allowed  a  piece  about  three  by  three  by 
four  inches  to  each  man  for  the  day's  ration.  The 
coffee  consisted  of  acorns  and  four  pounds  of  burned 
barley  boiled  in  one  hundred  gallons  of  water.  There 

82 


CURIOUS  CONCOCTIONS  OF  THE  CHEF 

was  no  sugar  or  milk.    My  curiosity  led  me  later  to 
get  this  and  other  recipes  from  the  fat  French  cook. 

All  that  day  and  for  several  following,  official 
and  guards  were  busy  numbering  and  renumbering 
us  and  assigning  us  to  our  companies.  They  were 
hopelessly  German  about  it,  and  did  it  so  many  times 
and  very  thoroughly.  There  were  twelve  thousand 
men  in  the  camp  and  eight  hundred  in  the  laager. 
The  majority  were  Russian  and  French  with  a  fair- 
ish sprinkling  of  Belgians.  There  were  perhaps  six 
hundred  British  in  the  entire  camp.  The  various 
nationalities  were  mixed  up  and  each  section  given  a 
hut  very  similar  to  those  American  and  British  troops 
occupy  in  their  own  countries.  A  number  of  smaller 
camps  in  the  neighbouring  districts  were  governed 
from  this  central  one. 

For  dinner  we  had  shadow  soup,  so  named  for 
obvious  reasons.  The  recipe  in  my  diary  reads: 
"For  eight  hundred  men,  two  hundred  gallons  of 
water,  one  small  bag  of  potatoes  and  one  packet  of 
herbs." 

To  make  matters  worse  the  vegetables  issued  at 
this  camp  were  in  a  decayed  condition  and  contin- 
ued to  come  to  us  so. 

83 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Another  staple  dinner  ration  was  ham  soup.  This 
was  the  usual  two  hundred  gallons  of  water  boiled 
with  ten  pounds  of  ham  rinds,  ten  pounds  of  cabbage 
and  twenty  pounds  of  potatoes.  The  ham  rind  had 
hair  on  it  but  we  used  to  fish  for  it  at  that  and  con- 
sidered ourselves  lucky  to  get  a  piece.  Oatmeal 
soup,  another  meal,  consisted  of  two  hundred  gal- 
lons of  water,  two  pounds  of  currants  and  fifty 
pounds  of  oatmeal ;  chestnut  soup,  two  hundred  gal- 
lons of  water,  one  hundred  pounds  of  whole  chest- 
nuts and  ten  pounds  of  potatoes.  It  was  a  horrible 
concoction  and  my  diary  has:  "To  be  served  hot 
and  thrown  out." 

Meat  soup  was  two  hundred  gallons  of  water, 
ten  pounds  of  meat,  one  small  bag  of  potatoes  and 
ten  pounds  of  vegetables.  This  was  the  most  nutri- 
tious of  the  lot.  Unfortunately  for  us,  the  small 
portion  of  meat  and  most  of  the  potatoes  were  given 
to  the  French,  both  because  the  cook  and  all  his  as- 
sistants were  Frenchmen  and  because  the  authorities 
willed  it  so. 

This  was  usually  managed  without  any  apparent 
unfairness  by  serving  the  British  first  and  the  French 
last,  with  the  result  that  the  one  received  a  tin  full 

84 


Thursday  9 


Friday  10 


RECIPES    FROM    CORPORAL    EDWARDS*    DIARY. 


CURIOUS  CONCOCTIONS  OF  THE  CHEF 

of  hot  water  that  was  too  weak  to  run  out,  while  the 
Frenchmen's  spoons  stood  to  attention  in  the  thicker 
mess  they  found  in  the  bottom.  This,  with  other 
things,  contributed  to  make  bad  blood  between  the 
two  races.  A  great  show  was  made  of  stirring  up 
the  mess,  but  it  was  a  pure  farce. 

Rice  soup  consisted  of  two  hundred  gallons  of 
water,  fifty  pounds  of  rice,  twenty  pounds  of  pota- 
toes and  one  pound  of  currants;  bean  soup,  two 
hundred  gallons  of  water,  fifty  pounds  of  beans,  and 
twenty  pounds  of  potatoes ;  pork  soup,  two  hundred 
gallons  of  water,  ten  pounds  of  pork  and  fifty  pounds 
of  potatoes.  Porridge  was  made  of  two  hundred 
gallons  of  water,  fifteen  pounds  of  oatmeal  and  two 
pounds  of  barley.  The  diary  states :  "To  be  served 
hot  as  a  drink." 

Once  in  two  months  a  ration  of  sausage  was  dished 
out.  For  breakfast  once  a  week  there  was  one  pint 
of  acorn  coffee  without  sugar  or  milk  and  one  and  a 
half  square  inches  of  Limburger  cheese.  To  quote 
from  the  diary :  "Before  serving,  open  all  windows 
and  doors.  Then  send  for  the  Russians  to  take  it 


away 

e  Germans  discrin 

85 


The  Germans  discriminated  against  the  British 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

prisoners.  When  there  was  any  disagreeable  duty; 
the  cry  went  up  for  "der  Englander."  The  much- 
sought- for  cookhouse  jobs  all  went  to  the  French, 
who  waxed  fat  in  consequence.  No  Britisher  was 
ever  allowed  near  the  cookhouse.  The  French  had 
for  the  most  part  been  there  for  some  time,  and,  their 
country  lying  so  close  by;  they  were  receiving  par- 
cels. We  were  not,  and  this  made  the  food  problem 
a  very  serious  one  for  us.  Their  supplies  were  re- 
ceived through  Switzerland  which  was  the  one  an- 
chor to  windward  for  so  many  of  us  in  this  and  other 
respects. 

At  first  the  French  used  to  give  us  a  certain  amount 
of  their  own  food,  but  eventually  ceased  to  do  so. 
Most  of  them  worked  down  in  the  town  daily  and 
could  "square"  the  guard  long  enough  to  buy  to- 
bacco at  twenty-five  pfennigs — or  two  and  a  half 
pence — a  package,  which  they  sold  to  us  later  at 
eighty  pfennigs — until  we  got  on  to  their  profiteer- 
ing. 


86 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

"Raus !" — The  Strafe  Barracks — The  Appeal  for  Casement 
—Why  Parcels  Should  Be  Sent— A  Hell  on  Earth — 
That  Brickyard  Fatigue — Gott  Strafe  England — Slow 
Starvation — Merciless  Discipline — Canadian  Humor — 
The  Debt  We  Owe — Inoculating  for  Typhoid? — 
Joseph's  Coat  of  Many  Colors — The  Russian  Who  Un- 
wound the  Rag — The  Monotony  of  the  Wire — Teaching 
the  Germans  the  British  Salute. 

EXCEPT  for  the  starving,  as  I  look  back  now,  Gies- 
sen  was  not  such  a  bad  camp  as  such  places  go.  At 
least  it  was  the  best  that  we  were  to  know.  The 
discipline,  of  course,  was  fairly  severe,  but  on  the 
other  hand  the  Commandant  did  not  trouble  us  a 
great  deal.  The  petty  annoyances  were  harder  to 
endure.  Frequently  we  would  get  the  "Raus!"  at 
half-hour  intervals  by  day  or  night;  "Raus  out!" 
"Raus  in !"  and  so  on. 

We  never  knew  what  our  tormentors  wanted  but 
supposed  it  to  be  a  systematic  attempt  to  break 

87 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

our  spirit  and  our  nerve  by  the  simple  expedient 
of  habitually  interfering  with  our  sleep  so  that  we 
would  become  like  the  Russians.  They  were  mostly 
utterly  broken  in  spirit  and  had  the  air  of  beaten 
dogs,  so  that  they  cringed  and  fawned  to  their  mas- 
ters. 

The  least  punishment  meted  out  for  the  most 
trifling  offense  was  three  days'  cells.  Some  got  ten 
years  for  refusing  to  work  in  munition  and  steel  fac- 
tories, particularly  British  and  Canadians. 

There  are  large  numbers  of  both  who  are  to-day 
serving  out  sentences  of  from  eighteen  months  to  ten 
years  in  the  military  fortresses  of  Germany  under  cir- 
cumstances of  the  greatest  cruelty. 

The  so-called  courts-martial  were  mockeries  of 
trials.  The  culprit  was  simply  marched  up  to  the 
orderly  room,  received  his  sentence  and  marched 
away  again.  He  was  allowed  no  defence  worthy  of 
the  name. 

Some  of  the  King's  Own  Yorkshire  Light  Infan- 
try were  "warned"  for  work  in  a  munitions  fac- 
tory. When  the  time  came  around  they  were  taken 
away  but  refused  to  work  and  so  they  were  knocked 
about  quite  a  bit.  One  was  shot  in  the  leg  and  an- 

88 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

other  bayoneted  through  the  hip,  and  all  were  sent 
back  to  camp,  where  they  were  awarded  six  weeks 
in  the  punishment  camp,  known  as  the  strafe  bar- 
racks. 

This  was  a  long  hut  in  which  were  two  rows  of 
stools  a  few  paces  apart.  The  Raus  blew  for  the 
culprits  at  five-thirty.  At  six  they  were  marched  to 
the  hut  and  made  to  sit  down  in  two  rows  facing 
one  another,  at  attention — that  is,  body  rigid,  head 
thrown  well  back,  chest  out,  hands  held  stiffly  at 
the  sides  and  eyes  straight  to  the  front — for  two 
hours!  Meanwhile  the  sentries  marched  up  and 
down  the  lane,  watching  for  any  relaxation  or  lev- 
ity. If  so  much  as  a  face  was  pulled  at  a  twinkling 
eye  across  the  way,  another  day's  strafing  was  added 
to  the  penalty.  At  the  end  of  the  two  hours  one 
hour's  rest  was  allowed,  during  which  the  prisoners 
could  walk  about  in  the  hut  but  ceuld  not  lie 
down!  This  continued  all  day  until  "Lights  out." 
For  six  weeks.  No  mail,  parcels,  writing  or  exer- 
cise was  permitted  the  prisoners  during  that  time, 
and  the  already  scanty  rations  were  cut. 

During  good  behavior  we  were  allowed  two  post 
cards  and  two  letters  a  month,  with  nine  lines  to 

89 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

the  former  and  thirteen  to  the  page  of  the  latter. 
No  more,  no  less.  Each  letter  had  four  pages  of 
the  small,  private-letter  size.  The  name  and  ad- 
dress counted  as  a  line.  Mine  was  Kriegsgenngenen- 
laager,  Kompagnie  No.  6,  Barackue  No.  A.  The 
writing  had  to  be  big  and  easily  read  and,  in  the  let- 
ters, on  four  sides  of  the  paper.  No  complaint  or 
discussion  of  the  war  was  permitted.  Fully  one-half 
of  those  written  were  returned  for  infringements,  or 
fancied  ones,  of  these  rules.  Sometimes  when  the 
censor  was  irritated  they  were  merely  chucked  into 
the  fire.  And  as  they  had  also  to  pass  the  English 
censor  it  is  no  wonder  that  many  families  wondered 
why  their  men  did  not  write. 

We  were  there  for  three  months  before  our  par- 
cels began  to  arrive.  We  considered  ourselves  lucky 
if  we  received  six  out  of  ten  sent,  and  with  half  the 
contents  of  the  six  intact.  In  the  larger  camps  the 
chances  of  receipt  were  better.  The  small  camps 
were  merely  units  attached  to  and  governed  by  the 
larger  ones,  which  handled  the  mail  before  giving 
it  to  the  authorities  at  the  smaller  ones. 

Thus,  a  man  who  was  "attached"  to  Giessen  camp, 
although  perhaps  one  hundred  miles  away  from  it, 

90 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

had  to  submit  to  the  additional  delay  and  chance  of 
loss  and  theft  included  in  the  censoring  of  the  parcel 
at  Giessen  as  well  as  at  the  actual  place  of  his  con- 
finement. 

This  doubled  the  chances  of  fault-finding  and  of 
theft.  Knowing  this  to  be  true,  I  most  earnestly 
recommend  the  sending  of  parcels.  True,  a  large 
proportion  of  them  are  not  received,  but  those  that 
are  represent  the  one  salvation  of  the  prisoner-of- 
war  in  German  hands.  So  terribly  true  is  this  that 
when  we  began  to  receive  parcels  at  irregular  inter- 
vals, we  used  regularly  to  acknowledge  to  our  friends 
the  receipt  of  parcels  which  we  had  never  received. 
This  was  the  low  cunning  developed  by  our  treat- 
ment. If  advised  that  a  parcel  of  tea,  sugar  or  other 
luxuries  had  been  sent  and  it  did  not  appear  after 
weeks  of  patient  waiting,  we  knew  that  we  should 
never  see  that  parcel.  Nevertheless,  we  usually 
wrote  and  thanked  the  donor  and  acknowledged  the 
receipt,  fearful  otherwise  that  he  or  she  should  say: 
"What's  the  use?"  and  send  no  more.  And  we  were 
not  allowed  to  tell  the  truth — that  it  had  been 
stolen. 

The  first  three  months  of  our  stay  at  Giessen  were 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

probably  the  worst  of  all,  including  as  they  did  the 
transition  period  to  this  life.  It  seemed  then  a  hell 
on  earth.  The  slow  starvation  was  the  worst.  Once, 
in  desperation,  I  gave  a  Frenchman  my  good  boots 
for  his  old  ones  and  two  and  a  half  marks,  and  then 
gave  sixty  pfennigs  of  this  to  the  French  cook  for 
a  bread  ration.  Again,  in  going  down  the  hut  one 
day,  I  espied  a  flat  French  loaf  cut  into  four  pieces, 
drying  on  the  window  sill.  Seizing  one  piece,  I 
tucked  it  under  my  tunic  and  passed  on  before  the 
loss  was  discovered.  Some  of  the  British  could  be 
seen  at  times  picking  over  the  sour  refuse  in  the 
barrels.  This  amused  the  Germans  very  much.  We 
endeavoured  to  get  cookhouse  jobs  for  the  pickings 
to  be  had,  but  could  not  do  so.  At  a  later  date, 
when  the  Canadian  Red  Cross,  Lady  Farquhar,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  Gault  and  our  families  were  sending  us 
packages  regularly,  we  made  out  all  right. 

Some  English  societies  were  in  the  habit  of  send- 
ing books,  music  and  games  to  the  prisoners  but  none 
of  these  ever  reached  the  group  with  whom  I  asso- 
ciated, even  before  our  later  actions  put  us  quite 
beyond  the  German  pale. 

The  appeal  for  Casement  and  the  Irish  Brigade 
92 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

was  made  to  us.  A  number  of  prisoners  were  taken 
apart  and  the  matter  broached  privately  to  them. 
Pamphlets  on  the  freeing  of  Ireland  were  also  dis- 
tributed. I  did  not  see  any  one  go  over,  and  an 
Irishman  who  was  detailed  with  another  Canadian 
and  myself  on  a  brickyard  fatigue  said  that  they  had 
recruited  only  forty  in  the  camp.  The  whole  thing 
turned  out  to  be  a  failure. 

There  were  twelve  of  us  all  told  on  that  brick- 
yard job.  Three  or  four  shoveled  clay  into  the  mix- 
ing machine,  two  more  filled  the  little  car  which 
two  others  pushed  along  the  track  of  the  narrow- 
gauge  railroad.  We  were  guarded  by  four  civilian 
Germans  of  some  home  defense  corps,  all  of  whom 
labored  with  us.  The  two  trammers  used  to  start 
the  car,  hop  on  the  brake  behind  and  let  it  run  of 
its  own  momentum  down  the  incline  to  the  edge  of 
the  bank  where  it  would  be  checked  for  dumping. 
Sometimes  we  forgot  to  brake  the  car  so  that  it 
would  ricochet  on  in  a  flying  leap  off  the  end  of  the 
track,  and  so  on  over  the  dump.  The  guards  would 
rage  and  swear  but  could  prove  nothing  so  long  as 
our  fellows  did  not  get  too  raw  and  do  this  too  fre- 
quently. 

93 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

One  day  we  shovelers  decided  to  add  to  the  gaiety 
of  nations.  While  one  attracted  the  guards'  atten- 
tion elsewhere  we  slipped  a  chunk  of  steel  into  the 
mess.  There  was  a  grinding  crash,  and  a  large  cog- 
wheel tore  its  way  through  the  roof.  In  a  moment, 
the  air  was  full  of  machinery  and  German  words. 
It  was  a  proper  wreck.  The  guards  ran  around  gesti- 
culating angrily,  tearing  their  hair  and  threatening 
us,  while  we  endeavoured  to  look  surprised.  It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  we  were  unsuccessful,  for 
we  were  hustled  back  to  camp  and  drew  five  days' 
cells  each  from  the  Commandant.  There  was  no 
trial.  He  merely  sentenced  us. 

United  States  Ambassador  Gerard  only  came  to 
Giessen  once  in  my  time  there,  and  that  was  while 
I  was  off  at  one  of  the  detached  camps,  so  I  had  no 
opportunity  of  observing  the  result. 

We  knew  very  little  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  outside  world.  The  guards  were  not  allowed  to 
converse  with  us,  and  if  one  was  known  to  speak 
English  he  was  removed.  However,  they  were  more 
or  less  curious  about  us  so  that  a  certain  amount  of 
clandestine  conversation  occurred.  Some  were  cer- 
tain that  they  were  going  to  win  the  war.  Others 

94 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

said:  "England  has  too  much  money.  Germany 
will  never  win."  They  used  frequently  to  gather 
the  Russians,  Belgians  and  French  together  and  lec- 
ture them  on  England's  sins.  They  said  that  Eng- 
land was  letting  them  do  all  the  fighting,  bleeding 
them  white  of  their  men  and  treasure  so  as  to  come 
out  at  the  end  of  the  war  with  the  balance  of  power 
necessary  for  her  plan  of  retaining  Constantinople 
and  the  Cinque  Ports  of  France.  Many  were  con- 
vinced, and  this  did  not  add  to  the  pleasantness  of 
our  lot. 

The  notorious  Continental  Times  was  circulated 
amongst  us  freely  in  both  French  and  English  edi- 
tions. It  regularly  gave  us  a  most  appalling  list  of 
German  victories  and  it  specialised  in  abuse  of  the 
English.  We  counted  up  in  one  month  a  total  of 
two  million  prisoners  captured  by  the  Germans  on 
all  fronts. 

As  I  have  said,  Giessen  was  the  best  camp  of  all, 
barring  the  starvation.  But  the  discipline  there  was 
merciless.  The  laager  was  inclosed  by  a  high  wire 
fence  which  we  were  forbidden  to  approach  within 
four  feet  of.  A  Russian  sergeant  overstepped  that 
mark  one  day  to  shout  something  to  a  friend  in  an 

95 


adjoining  laager.  The  sentry  shouted  at  him.  He 
either  failed  to  hear  or  did  not  understand.  The 
sentry  killed  him  without  hesitation. 

A  Belgian  started  over  one  day  with  some  left- 
over soup  which  he  purposed  giving  to  the  Russians. 
The  sentry  would  not  let  him  pass.  He  went  back 
and  told  his  mate.  The  latter,  a  kindly  little  fel- 
low, thinking  that  the  sentry  had  not  understood  the 
nature  of  the  mission,  decided  to  try  himself.  The 
sentry  stopped  him.  He  attempted  to  argue.  The 
sentry  pushed  him  roughly  back.  He  struck  the 
German.  The  latter  dropped  him  with  a  blow  on 
the  head,  and  while  he  lay  unconscious  shoved  the 
bayonet  into  him.  It  was  done  quite  coolly  and 
methodically,  without  heat.  He  was  promoted  for 
it.  We  were  told  that  he  had  done  a  good  thing 
and  that  we  should  get  the  same  if  we  did  not  be- 
have. 

A  Canadian  who  was  forced  to  work  in  a  muni- 
tions plant  and  whose  task  included  the  replacing  of 
waste  in  the  wheel  boxes  of  cars  enjoyed  himself  for 
a  while,  lifting  the  greasy  waste  out  and  replacing  it 
with  sand.  He  got  ten  years  for  that. 

The  German  in  charge  of  our  laager  hated  the  ver- 
96 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

damnt  Engldnder  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  bull- 
dozing and  threatening  us.  One  of  the  Canadians 
who  had  been  in  the  American  Navy  was  unusually 
truculent.  The  German  purposely  bunted  him  one 
day.  "Don't  do  that  again!"  The  German  re- 
peated the  act.  The  sailor  jolted  him  in  the  jaw  so 
that  he  went  to  dreamland  for  fifteen  minutes.  The 
prisoner  was  taken  to  the  guardroom  and  we  never 
heard  his  ultimate  fate,  but  at  the  ruling  rate  he 
was  lucky  if  he  got  off  with  ten  years. 

It  is  men  like  this  to  whom  our  Government  and 
people  owe  such  a  debt  as  may  be  paid  only  in  a 
small  degree  by  our  insistence  after  the  war  that  they 
be  given  their  liberty.  A  greater  glory  is  theirs  than 
that  of  the  soldier.  They  wrought  amongst  a  world 
of  foes,  knowing  their  certain  punishment,  but  dar- 
ing it  rather  than  assist  that  foe's  efforts  against 
their  country. 

One  day  we  were  told  that  we  must  be  inoculated 
in  the  arm  against  typhoid.  We  thought  nothing  of 
that.  But  the  next  day  men  began  to  gather  in 
groups  so  that  the  guards  shouted  roughly  at  them, 
bidding  them  not  to  mutter  and  whisper  so. 

Where  the  word  came  from  I  know  not.  It  may 
97 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

have  emanated  in  the  fears  of  some  active  imagi- 
nation on  the  chance  and  truthful  word  of  a  guard, 
flung  in  derision  at  some  desperate  man,  or  in  a 
kindlier  mood  and  in  warning.  The  word  was  that 
we  were  to  be  inoculated  with  the  germs  of  consump- 
tion. I  understand  that  it  appeared  also  in  the 
papers  at  home.  It  seemed  horrible  beyond  words 
to  us.  The  idea  appeared  crazy  but  was  equally  on 
a  par  with  the  events  we  witnessed  daily.  Myself, 
I  planned  to  take  no  chances;  if  it  were  humanly 
possible. 

We  were  all  ordered  to  parade  for  the  inocula- 
tion. I  hid  myself  with  a  few  others  and  so  escaped 
the  operation.  Nothing  was  said  so  I  could  only 
suppose  that  they  failed  to  check  us  up  as  it  was  not 
in  keeping  with  the  German  character  as  we  had 
come  to  know  it  to  miss  any  opportunity  of  cor- 
rective punishment  even  though  the  inoculation  had 
been  for  our  own  good. 

It  is  true  that  some  of  the  men  so  inoculated  fell 
prey  to  consumption.  On  the  other  hand  one  of 
them  had  had  a  well  defined  case  of  it  before,  and 
it  was  almost  certain  that  the  living  conditions  pre- 
vailing amongst  us  would  insure  the  appearance  of 

98 


FELLOW  PRISONERS  AT  GEISSEX.      FROM   LEFT  TO  RIGHT:   A  CHESHIRE 
REGIMENT   MAN,    A   SIBERIAN   RUSSIAN,    AN   EAST   YORKSHIRE 
LIGHT   INFANTRYMAN   AND    A   GORDON   HIGHLANDER. 


FELLOW    PRISONERS    AT    GEISSEN.       THREE    HIGHLANDERS    AND    A 
YORKSHIRE    LIGHT    INFANTRYMAN. 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

the  disease  so  that  we  had  no  proof  that  any  man 
was  so  inoculated.  Some  of  the  men  so  affected 
were  sent  to  Switzerland  for  the  benefit  of  the  moun- 
tain air  through  an  arrangement  made  by  the  Red 
Cross  with  the  Swiss  authorities. 

One  of  our  guards  was  subject  to  fits  and  habitu- 
ally ran  amuck  amongst  us,  abusing  some  of  the 
prisoners  in  a  painful  fashion.  We  made  complaint 
of  this  through  the  proper  channels,  for  which  crime 
the  officer  in  charge  stopped  our  fires  and  other  privi- 
leges for  the  time  being. 

Most  of  the  men  wore  prison  uniforms  or  in  some 
cases,  suits  sent  from  England  which  were  altered  by 
the  authorities  to  conform  to  their  regulations.  These 
required  that  if  one  was  not  in  a  distinctive  and 
enemy  uniform  that  broad  stripes  of  bright  colored 
cloth  be  set  into  the  seam  of  the  trousers;  not  sewed 
on,  but  into  the  goods.  A  large  diamond  shaped 
piece  or  else  a  square  of  such  cloth  was  set  into  the 
breast  and  back  of  the  tunic.  I  preferred  my  uni- 
form, dilapidated  though  it  was.  We  were  permit- 
ted the  choice,  probably  less  out  of  kindness  than 
because  of  the  saving  involved. 

There  was  a  big  simple  giant  of  a  Russian  here 
99 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

who  was  badly  sprung  at  the  knees.  He  had  been 
forced  to  work  during  the  winter  in  an  underground 
railway  station  near  Berlin.  He  had  had  no  shoes 
and  had  stood  in  the  water  for  weeks,  digging.  He 
was  very  badly  crippled  in  consequence. 

Some  four  hundred  Russians  came  to  us  after  the 
fall  of  Warsaw.  They  were  mostly  wounded  and 
all  rotten.  On  the  three  months'  march  to  Giessen 
the  wounded  had  received  absolutely  no  attention 
other  than  their  own.  Here  we  had  a  crazy  German 
doctor,  a  mediocre  French  one  and  Canadian  order- 
lies. If  an  Englishman  went  to  the  hospital  for 
treatment  it  was  "Vick!" — Get  out.  These  Rus- 
sians were  treated  similarly.  The  French  fared  bet- 
ter. One  big,  fine-looking  Russian,  with  a  filthy 
mass  of  rags  wound  round  his  arm,  reported  for  at- 
tention. They,  unwound  the  rag  and  his  arm 
dropped  off.  He  died,  with  five  others,  that  after- 
noon, and  God  only  knows  how  many  more  on  the 
trip  they  had  just  finished. 

They  were  buried  in  a  piano  case,  together.  Usu- 
ally they  were  placed  in  packing  cases.  We  asked 
for  a  flag  with  which  to  cover  them  as  soldiers  should 

IOO 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

be.  They  asked  what  that  was  for  and  there  it 
ended. 

Another  Russian  had  a  foul  arm  which  leaked 
badly  so  that  it  was  not  only  painful  to  him  but  of- 
fensive to  the  rest  of  us.  Nothing  was  done  for 
him. 

They  were  all  thoroughly  cowed,  as  are  dogs 
that  have  been  illtreated.  And  they  jumped  to  it 
when  a  German  spoke — excepting  two  of  their  of- 
ficers, who  refused  to  take  down  their  epaulets  when 
ordered  to  do  so.  We  did  not  learn  how  they  fared. 
These  were  the  only  captive  officers  of  any  national- 
ity whom  we  saw. 

We  became  sick  of  the  sight  of  one  another  as 
even  the  best  of  friends  do  under  such  abnormal 
conditions.  For  variety  I  often  walked  around  the 
enclosure  with  a  Russian.  Neither  of  us  had  the 
faintest  idea  what  the  other  said,  but  it  was  a 
change ! 

The  monotony  of  the  wire  was  terrible — and  just 
outside  it  in  the  lane  formed  by  the  encircling  set  of 
wire,  the  dogs,  with  their  tongues  out,  walked  back 
and  forth,  eyeing  us. 

There  was  so  little  to  talk  about.    We  knew  noth- 

JOI 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

ing  and  could  only  speculate  on  the  outcome  of  the 
commonest  events  which  came  to  us  on  the  tongue 
of  rumour  or  arose  out  of  our  own  sad  thoughts. 

The  authorities  were  not  satisfied  with  our  recog- 
nition— or  lack  of  it — of  their  officers  and  took  us 
out  to  practice  saluting  drill — a  thing  always  de- 
tested by  soldiers,  especially  veterans.  The  idea  was 
to  make  us  salute  visiting  German  officers  properly, 
in  the  German  fashion  and  not  in  our  own.  Theirs 
consisted  of  saluting  with  the  right  hand  only,  with 
the  left  held  stiffly  straight  at  the  side,  while  our 
way  was  to  salute  with  the  hand  farthest  from  the 
officer,  giving  "Eyes  left"  or  "Eyes  right"  as  the  case 
might  be,  and  with  the  free  hand  swinging  loosely 
with  the  stride. 

So  a  school  of  us  were  led  out  to  this.  The  very 
atmosphere  was  tense  with  sullen  rebellion.  The 
guards  eyed  us  askance.  The  officer  stood  at  the 
left  awaiting  us;  beyond  him  and  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road,  a  post. 

An  unteroffizier  ordered  us  to  march  by,  one  by 
one,  to  give  the  Herr  Offizier  "Augen  Links"  in  the 
German  fashion,  and  to  the  post,  which  represented 

102 


THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  AT  GIESSEN 

another  officer,  an  "Augen  Rechts"  when  we  should 
come  to  it. 

"I'll  see  him  in  hell  first,"  I  muttered  to  the  man 
next  me.  I  was  in  the  lead  of  the  party.  I  shook 
with  excitement  and  fear  of  I  knew  not  what. 

As  the  command  rang  out  I  stepped  out  with  a 
swing,  and  with  the  action,  decision  came  to  me.  As 
I  approached  the  officer  he  drew  up  slightly  and 
looked  at  me  expectantly. 

I  gave  him  a  stony  stare,  and  passed  on. 

A  few  more  steps  and  I  reached  the  post.  I  pulled 
back  my  shoulders  with  a  smart  jerk,  got  my  arms 
to  swinging  freely,  snapped  my  head  round  so  that 
my  eyes  caught  the  post  squarely  and  swung  my 
left  hand  up  in  a  clean-cut  parabola  to  "Eyes  right," 
in  good  old  regimental  order. 

A  half  dozen  shocked  sentries  came  up  on  the 
double.  It  was  they  who  were  excited  now.  I  was 
master  of  myself  and  the  situation.  The  unteroffi- 
zier  ordered  me  to  repeat  and  salute.  I  did  so — liter- 
ally. The  officer  was,  to  all  outward  appearances, 
the  only  other  person  there  who  remained  unmoved. 
My  ardour  had  cooled  by  this  time,  and  his  very  si- 
lence seemed  worse  than  the  threats  of  the  guard. 

103 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Nor  was  I  exactly  in  love  with  my  self-appointed 
task.  Nevertheless,  I  saw  my  mates  watching  me 
and  inwardly  applauding.  I  was  ashamed  to  quit. 
I  did  it  again.  That  won  me  another  five  days'  cells. 


104 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  ESCAPE 

Picking  a  Pal  for  Switzerland— Cold  Feet— The  Talk  in  the 
Wood — Nothing  Succeeds  Like  Success  and — ! — Sim- 
mons and  Brumley  Try  Their  Hand. 

MERVIN  SIMMONS  of  the  yth,  and  Frank  Brum- 
ley of  the  3rd  Battalion,  Canadian  Expeditionary 
Force  were  planning  to  escape.  Word  of  it  leaked 
through  to  me.  This  added  fuel  to  the  fire  of  my 
own  similar  ambition.  They,  and  I  too,  thought  that 
it  was  not  advisable  for  more  than  two  to  travel  to- 
gether. I  began  to  look  around  for  a  partner.  I 
"weighed  up"  all  my  comrades.  It  was  unwise  to 
broach  the  subject  to  too  many  of  them.  I  bided 
my  time  until  a  certain  man  having  dropped  re- 
marks which  indicated  certain  sporting  proclivities,  I 
broached  the  subject  to  him.  He  was  most  en- 
thusiastic. We  decided  on  Switzerland  as  our  ob- 
jective and  awaited  only -the  opportunity  to  make 
a  break. 

105 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

There  were  few  if  any  preparations  to  make.  We 
were  not  yet  receiving  parcels  and  our  allowance  of 
food  was  so  scanty  that  it  was  impossible  to  lay 
any  by.  We  had  a  crude  map  of  our  own  drawing. 
And  that  was  our  all. 

In  the  interval  we  discussed  ways  and  means  of 
later  travel  and  endeavoured  to  prepare  our  minds 
for  all  contingencies,  even  capture.  We  talked  the 
matter  over  with  Simmons  and  Brumley  at  every 
opportunity,  so  as  to  benefit  also  by  their  plans. 
This  required  caution  so  we  were  careful  at  all  times 
that  we  should  not  be  seen  together;  rather  that  we 
should  even  appear  unfriendly.  We  developed  the 
cunning  of  the  oppressed.  Once  we  even  staged  a 
wordy  quarrel  over  some  petty  thing  for  the  benefit 
of  our  guards  and  others  of  the  prisoners  whom  we 
distrusted.  At  other  times  we  foregathered  in  dim 
corners  of  our  huts  as  though  by  chance.  We  con- 
versed covertly  from  the  corners  of  our  mouths  and 
without  any  movement  of  the  lips,  as  convicts  do. 
This  avoidance  of  one  another  was  made  the  easier 
because  of  the  arrangement  of  the  personnel  of  each 
hut.  The  various  nationalities  were  pretty  well  split 
up  in  companies,  presumably  to  prevent  illicit  co- 

106 


THE  ESCAPE 


operation  and  each  company  was  separated  from 
the  others  by  the  wire. 

Our  chance  came  at  last.  We  were  "warned" 
for  a  working  party  on  a  railroad  grade  near  by. 
As  compliance  would  enable  us  to  get  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wire,  we  made  no  protest.  This  work 
was  a  part  of  the  authorities'  scheme  of  farming 
prisoners  out  to  private  individuals  and  corporations 
who  required  labour.  In  this  case  it  was  a  railroad 
contractor.  As  a  rule  the  contractors  fed  us  better 
than  the  authorities,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
keep  our  working  strength  up. 

We  were  marched  out  of  the  laager  without  any 
breakfast  each  morning  to  the  work  and  there  re- 
ceived a  little  sausage  and  a  bit  of  bread  for  break- 
fast. At  noon  we  received  soup  of  a  better  quality 
than  the  camp  stuff.  It  was  cooked  by  a  Russian 
Pole,  a  civilian ;  one  of  many  who  was  living  out  in 
the  town  on  parole.  These  had  to  report  regularly 
to  the  authorities  and  had  to  remain  in  the  local 
area. 

We  were  on  the  job  a  week  before  things  seemed 
favourable.  We  had  only  what  we  stood  in,  except- 
ing the  rough  map,  which  was  drawn  from  hearsay 

107 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

and  our  scanty  knowledge  of  the  country.  We 
planned  to  travel  at  night,  lay  our  course  by  the 
stars  and  perhaps  walk  to  Switzerland  in  six  weeks. 

We  worked  all  morning,  grading  on  the  railroad 
embankment.  At  noon  we  knocked  off  for  soup  and 
a  rest.  We  were  on  the  edge  of  a  large  wood.  Some 
of  the  men  flung  themselves  on  the  bank;  others 
went  to  see  if  the  soup  was  ready.  A  few  went  into 
the  wood.  The  solitary  guard  was  elsewhere.  We 
said  good-bye  to  the  few  who  knew  of  our  plans. 
They  bade  us  God-speed  and  then  we,  too,  faded 
into  the  recesses  of  the  wood. 

We  had  no  sooner  set  foot  in  it  than  I  noticed  a 
curious  change  come  over  my  companion.  He  said 
that  it  was  a  bad  time,  a  bad  place,  found  fault 
with  everything  and  said  that  we  should  not  go 
that  day.  However,  we  continued,  half-heartedly 
on  his  part,  to  shove  our  way  on  into  the  wood.  Oc- 
casionally he  glanced  fearfully  over  his  shoulder 
and  voiced  querulous  protests.  I  did  not  answer  him. 
A  little  further  on  and  he  stopped.  A  dog  was 
barking. 

"There's  too  many  dogs  about,  Edwards.  And 
108 


THE  ESCAPE 


just  look  at  all  those  houses."  He  pointed  to  where 
a  village  showed  through  the  trees. 

"Sure  thing,  there'll  be  houses  thick  like  that  all 
the  way.  It's  our  job  to  keep  clear  of  them." 

"Yes,  but  look  at  the  people.  There's  bound  to 
be  lots  of  them  where  there's  so  many  houses." 

"Of  course  there  are,"  I  replied:  "Germany's 
full  of  houses  and  people.  That's  no  news.  Come 
on." 

"Oh!  They'll  see  us  sure,  Edwards — and  tele- 
graph ahead  all  over  the  country.  We  haven't  got 
any  more  show  than  a  rabbit." 

With  that  I  lost  patience  and  gave  him  a  piece  of 
my  mind.  We  stood  there,  arguing  it  back  and 
forth. 

It  was  no  use:  He  fell  prey  to  his  own  fears; 
saw  certain  capture  and  a  dreadful  punishment. 
He  conjured  up  all  the  dangers  that  an  active  im- 
agination could  envisage:  Every  bush  was  a  Ger- 
man and  every  sound  the  occasion  of  a  fresh  alarm. 
He  was  like  to  ruin  my  own  nerves  with  his  petty 
panics. 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  pleaded  with  him:  He 
could  not  face  the  dangers  that  he  saw  ahead.  The 

109 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

laager  seemed  to  him,  by  comparison,  a  haven  of 
refuge.  When  all  else  failed,  I  appealed  to  his  pride. 
He  had  none.  I  warned  him  that  we  should  meet 
with  nothing  but  scorn  from  our  comrades,  except- 
ing laughter,  which  was  worse.  I  begged  and 
pleaded  with  him  to  go  on  with  me.  No  use.  All 
his  courage  was  foam  and  had  settled  back  into 
dregs. 

And  so  we  returned.  I  was  heart-broken.  But 
there  was  no  use  in  my  going  on  alone.  To  travel 
by  night  we  must  sleep  in  the  day  time  and  that  re- 
quired that  some  one  should  always  be  on  watch  to 
avoid  the  chance  travellers  of  the  day — which  was 
obviously  impossible  for  any  one  who  travelled  alone. 

We  had  been  gone  only  an  hour  and  a  half  and 
the  guard  was  just  beginning  to  look  around  for  us. 
Otherwise  we  had  not  been  missed  nor  seen,  for  the 
wood  was  a  large  one  and  we  had  not  yet  gotten  out 
of  its  confines.  The  guard  was  too  relieved  to  find 
us,  when  we  stepped  out  of  the  wood  and  picked  up 
our  shovels,  to  do  more  than  betray  a  purely  per- 
sonal annoyance.  He  asked  where  we  had  been  and 
why  we  had  remained  for  so  long  a  time.  We  gave 
the  obvious  excuse.  He  was  too  well  pleased  at 

no 


THE  ESCAPE 


his  own  narrow  escape  from  responsibility  to  be 
critical,  so  that  the  affair  ended  in  so  far  as  he  or 
his  kind  were  concerned.  Which  made  what  fol- 
lowed the  harder  to  bear. 

For  it  was  not  so  with  our  own  comrades.  My 
prognostication  had  been  a  correct  one.  A  few  of 
them  had  known  that  we  were  going;  some  had  bade 
us  good-bye.  They  rested  on  their  picks  now  and 
stared  at  us,  lifting  their  eyebrows,  with  a  knowing 
smile  for  one  another  and  a  half-sneer  for  us.  My 
companion  had  already  plumbed  the  depths  of  fear 
and  so  was  now  lost  to  all  shame.  Myself,  I  found 
it  very  hard.  Soldiers  have,  outwardly  at  least,  but 
little  tenderness,  except  perhaps  in  bad  times,  and 
they  showed  none  now.  Nor  mercy.  The  situation 
would  have  been  ridiculous  had  it  not  been  so  ut- 
terly tragic — to  have  failed  without  trying!  Ed- 
wards's  escape  became  camp  offal.  We  became  the 
butt  and  the  byword  of  the  camp,  so  that  I  honestly 
regretted  not  having  pushed  on  alone.  I  felt  sure 
that  the  almost  certain  capture  and  more  certain 
punishment  would  have  been  more  bearable  than 
this.  There  was  nothing  that  I  could  say  in  my  own 
defense  except  at  the  other  man's  expense — which 

in 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

would  have  been  in  questionable  taste  and  would 
have  been  deemed  the  resort  of  a  weakling.  So  I 
kept  my  counsel  and  brooded.  The  ignorance  of 
the  guards  made  the  tragedy  comic.  It  was  very 
humiliating.  I  gritted  my  teeth  and  swore  that  I 
at  any  rate  should  go  again  in  spite  of  their  in- 
credulous jeers.  But  it  was  all  terribly  discourag- 
ing and  made  me  most  despondent. 

And  that  finished  that  trip  to  Switzerland. 

A  few  days  later  Simmons  and  Brumley  disap- 
peared. There  was  no  commotion.  One  day  they 
were  with  us  and  the  next — they  were  not.  The 
guards  said  nothing  and  we  feared  to  ask.  I  longed 
ardently  to  be  with  them. 

In  a  few  days  the  camp  was  thrown  into  a  mild 
turmoil.  The  poor  fellows  were  escorted  in  under  a 
heavy  guard.  And  very  dejected  they  looked  too — 
in  rags,  very  wet  and  evidently  short  of  food,  sleep 
and  a  shave.  Nevertheless,  I  envied  them. 

They  disappeared  for  a  long  time.  We  were  told 
they  got  two  weeks'  cells  and  six  weeks  of  sitting  on 
the  stools  in  strafe  barracks.  I  remembered  the 
Yorkshiremen  and  my  envy  was  tempered. 

I  spent  most  of  my  time  casting  about  for  the 
112 


THE  ESCAPE 


means  for  a  real  escape.  Quite  aside  from  my  natu- 
ral desire  for  freedom  I  felt  that  my  good  name  as  a 
soldier  was  at  stake.  However,  I  waited  for  an  op- 
portunity to  converse  with  Simmons  and  Brumley 
before  doing  anything  as  I  felt  that  their  experi- 
ence might  contain  some  useful  hints  for  me. 

They  appeared  at  the  end  of  two  months,  quite 
undismayed.  They  told  me  of  what  had  happened 
to  them  and  Simmons  approached  me  on  the  subject 
of  making  another  try  of  it  with  them.  I  readily 
consented.  They  were  now  convinced  that  three  or 
four  could  make  the  attempt  with  a  better  chance 
of  success  than  two  men.  I  would  have  agreed  to 
go  an  army!  All  I  wanted  was  an  opportunity  to 
prove  my  mettle  and  retrieve  my  lost  reputation. 

They  told  me  their  story.  It  seems  that  they  had 
been  sent  out  as  a  working  party  to  a  near  by  farm. 
They  were  locked  in  the  room  as  usual  at  nine  o'clock 
that  night  after  the  day's  work  and  then  waited  until 
they  had  heard  the  sentry  pass  by  a  couple  of  times 
on  his  rounds.  The  window  was  covered  with 
barbed  wire  which  they  had  no  difficulty  in  remov- 
ing. By  morning  they  were  well  on  the  way  to 
Switzerland.  They  figured  that  they,  too,  could 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

do  it  in  six  weeks'  of  walking  by  night,  laying  their 
course  by  the  stars.  They  had  no  money  and  were 
still  in  khaki. 

They  were  four  days'  out  and  lying  close  in  a 
small  clump  of  bushes  adjoining  a  field  in  which 
women  were  digging  potatoes  when  a  small  boy 
stumbled  on  them.  They  knew  they  had  been  seen 
the  day  before  and  chose  this  exposed  spot  rather 
than  the  near-by  wood,  thinking  that  it  was  there 
the  hue  and  cry  would  run.  But  he  was  a  crafty  lit- 
tle brat  and  pretended  that  he  had  not  seen  them. 
They  were  not  certain  whether  he  had  or  not  and 
hesitated  to  give  their  position  away  by  running 
for  it. 

The  boy  walked  until  he  neared  the  women,  when 
he  broke  into  a  run  and  soon  all  gathered  in  a  little 
knot,  looking  and  pointing  toward  the  fugitives. 
Some  of  the  women  broke  away  and  evidently  told 
some  Bavarian  soldiers  who  had  been  searching. 
The  latter  had  already  been  firing  into  the  woods  to 
flush  them  out  so  that  if  the  boy  had  not  seen  them 
the  soldiers  would  in  all  likelihood  have  passed  on, 
after  searching  the  main  wood. 

It  was  just  four  o'clock  with  darkness  still  four 
114 


THE  ESCAPE 


hours  off.  Simmons  and  Brumley  were  unarmed. 
There  was  no  use  in  running  for  it.  So  they  sur- 
rendered with  what  grace  they  could.  There  was 
the  usual  verdammng,  growling  and  prodding  but 
no  really  bad  treatment.  For  this  they  were  sen- 
tenced to  two  weeks  cells  and  six  weeks  of  strafe 
barracks. 

They  had  been  much  bothered  by  the  lack  of  a 
compass  on  their  trip;  so  when  they  finished  their 
strafing  and  were  once  more  allowed  the  privileges 
of  the  mail,  Simmons  took  a  chance  and  wrote  on  the 
inside  of  an  envelope  addressed  to  his  brother  in 
Canada:  "Send  a  compass."  He  was  not  called  up 
so  we  hoped  that  it  had  gone  through. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


The  Swamp  at  Cellelaager — Seven  Hundred  Men  and  Two 
Small  Stoves — Taking  the  Stripes  Down — The  Recre- 
ant Sergeant  Major — "Go  Ahead  an'  Shoot — !" 

GIESSEN  is  in  Hesse.  Shortly  after  this  we 
were  all  sent  to  Cellelaager  in  Hanover.  This  was 
the  head  camp  of  a  series  reserved  for  the  punish- 
ment or  the  working  of  prisoners.  Each  unit  re- 
tained the  name  of  Cellelaager  and  received  in  ad- 
dition a  number,  as  Cellelaager  i,  Cellelaager  2  and 
so  on.  There  were  grounds  here  providing  a  lot 
for  football,  and  a  theatre  run  by  the  prisoners,  for 
which  there  was  an  entrance  fee,  and  other  like 
amusements.  These,  however,  were  only  for  those 
prisoners  who  were  on  good  behaviour  and  who 
were  employed  there.  As  such  they  were  denied  such 
desperadoes  as  ourselves. 

We  remained  there  for  two  weeks  and  were  then 
sent  to  the  punishment  camp  known  as  Vehnmoor 

116 


THE  TRAITOR  AT  VEHNMOOR 

or  Cellelaager  6.  This  was  a  good  day's  ride  away 
and  also  in  Hanover,  fifteen  kilometres  from  the  big 
military  town  of  Oldenburg.  Here  we  were  turned 
out  to  work  on  the  moors  with  four  hundred  Rus- 
sians, one  hundred  French  and  Belgians  and  two 
hundred  British  and  Canadians.  We  were  housed 
in  one  large  hut  built  on  a  swamp  and  were  con- 
tinually wet.  There  were  only  two  small  stoves 
for  the  seven  hundred  men  and  we  had  only  a  few 
two  pound  syrup  tins  in  which  to  cook.  A  poor 
quality  of  peat  was  our  only  fuel.  As  only  five 
men  could  crowd  round  a  stove  at  a  time,  one's 
chances  were  rather  slim  in  the  dense  mob,  every 
man-jack  of  whom  was  waiting  to  slip  into  the  first 
vacant  place  that  offered. 

We  slept  in  a  row  along  the  wall,  with  our  heads 
to  it.  Overhead  a  broad  shelf  supported  a  similar 
row  of  men.  Above  them  were  the  windows.  At 
our  feet  and  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  there  was  a 
two  foot  passage  way  and  then  another  row  of  men, 
with  two  shelves  housing  two  more  layers  of  sleep- 
ers above  them.  Then  another  two  foot  passage- 
way, the  row  of  men  on  the  floor  against  the  other 
wall  and  the  usual  shelf  full  above  them.  The  ver- 

117 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

min  were  bad  and  presented  a  problem  until  we  ar- 
ranged with  the  Russians  to  take  one  end  to  them- 
selves, the  French  and  Belgians  the  middle  and  we 
the  other  end.  By  this  means  we  British  were  able 
to  institute  precautionary  measures  amongst  our- 
selves so  that  after  feasting  on  the  Russians  and 
finishing  up  upon  the  French,  our  annoying  friends 
usually  turned  about  and  went  home  again. 

The  swamp  water  was  filthy,  full  of  peat  and 
only  to  be  drunk  in  minute  quantities  at  the  bidding 
of  an  intolerable  thirst.  There  was  no  other  water 
to  be  had  and  we  simply  could  not  drink  this.  The 
Russians  did,  which  meant  another  fatigue  party  to 
bury  them.  The  only  doctor  was  an  old  German, 
called  so  by  courtesy ;  but  he  knew  nothing  of  medi- 
cine. As  a  corporal,  I  was  held  responsible  for 
twenty  men.  That  implied  mostly  keeping  track 
of  the  sick  and  I  have  seen  nineteen  of  my  twenty 
thus.  But  that  made  no  difference.  It  was  "Raus !" 
and  out  they  came,  sick  or  well. 

Every  morning  an  officer  stood  at  the  gate  as  we 
marched  out  to  the  moor,  to  take  "Eyes  right"  and 
a  salute,  for  no  useful  purpose  that  we  could  see  ex- 
cept to  belittle  a  British  soldier's  pride.  As  cor- 


THE  TRAITOR  AT  VEHNMOOR 

poral  I  was  supposed  to  give  that  command  to  my 
squad  but  rather  than  do  so  I  took  my  stripes  down, 
although  that  ended  my  immunity  as  a  "non-com" 
from  the  labour  of  cutting  peat.  Others,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  were  glad  to  put  the  stripes  up  and  at  times 
went  beyond  the  necessities  of  the  situation  in  en- 
forcing their  rule  on  their  comrades.  It  was  one  of 
these  who  was  found  to  be  trading  in  and  selling  his 
packages  to  his  less  fortunate  comrades  and  who  was 
ostracized  in  consequence. 

There  were  here  at  Vehnmoor,  as  there  had  been 
at  Giessen,  a  certain  few  of  our  own  men  who  traded 
on  the  misfortunes  of  their  own  comrades.  This  man 
was  the  worst  of  them  all.  He  was  a  sergeant-ma- 
jor in  a  certain  famous  regiment  of  the  line  in  the 
British  Army.  He  was  a  fair  sample  of  that  worst 
type  which  the  army  system  so  often  delegates  au- 
thority to — and  complains  because  that  authority 
does  not  meet  with  the  respect  it  should  on  the  part 
of  its  victims. 

He  excelled  in  all  the  arts  of  the  sycophant :  The 
pleasure  of  the  guards  was  his  delight,  their  dis- 
pleasure, his  poignant  grief.  He  assumed  the  au- 
thority of  his  rank  with  us,  he  reported  the  slight- 

119 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

est  of  misdemeanours  amongst  us  to  the  guards  and 
was  instrumental  in  having  many  punished.  These 
and  other  things  gave  him  and  others  of  his  kidney 
the  run  of  the  main  grounds  so  that  they  could 
stretch  their  legs  and  have  some  variety  in  their 
lives.  Such  liberty  was  there  for  any  man  who 
would  do  as  they  did. 

None  of  us  were  safe  from  these  traitors.  The 
sergeant  major  in  particular,  spied  on  us,  reporting 
all  criticisms  of  our  guards  and  other  things  Ger- 
man. We  raged.  He  had  for  his  virtue  a  small 
room  to  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  hut.  When  par- 
cels came  from  England,  addressed  to  the  senior  non- 
commissioned officer  of  his  regiment,  for  him  to  dis- 
tribute; he  called  the  guards  in.  Shortly  they  went 
out  with  their  coats  bulging  suspiciously.  We  were 
then  called  to  receive  ours  whilst  he  stood  over,  bully- 
ing us  with  all  the  abusive  "chatter"  which  the 
British  service  so  well  teaches.  And  afterward  we 
watched  covertly,  with  all  the  cunning  of  the  op- 
pressed, and  saw  him  receive  other  stealthy  favours 
from  the  guards  that  were  not  within  his  arrange- 
ment with  the  Commandant. 

So  one  of  his  own  men  who  had  a  certain  legal 
120 


THE  TRAITOR  AT  VEHNMOOR 

learning  took  down  all  these  facts  as  I  have  recited 
them  and  calling  us  together,  bade  us  sign  our  names 
in  evidence  of  so  foul  a  treachery.  Which  we  gladly 
did.  And  it  was  and  is  the  prayer  of  all  that  when 
the  gates  of  the  prison  camps  roll  back  this  docu- 
ment will  get  to  the  War  Office  and  there  receive  the 
attention  it  deserves. 

My  comrades  in  misfortune  here  told  me  of  an- 
other such  a  man  who  had  gone  away  just  before  my 
arrival  at  this  camp.  He,  too,  was  a  sergeant-ma- 
jor of  a  line  regiment  in  the  old  army.  I  had  known 
him  in  the  old  days  in  India.  In  his  own  regiment 
he  was  never  known  by  his  own  name,  but  instead 
by  this  one:  "The  dirty  bad  man."  No  one  ever 
called  him  anything  else  when  referring  to  him. 
That  was  his  former  record  and  this  is  what  he  did 
here  to  keep  the  memory  of  it  green. 

He  was  instrumental  in  having  fixed  on  us  one 
of  the  most  terrible  of  army  punishments.  It  ap- 
pears that  some  time  before  one  of  our  men  had 
broken  some  petty  rule  of  discipline  and  the  Ger- 
mans had  asked  the  sergeant-major  what  the  punish- 
ment was  in  our  army  for  such  a  "crime,"  as  all  of- 
fences are  termed  in  the  army. 

121 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

"Number  One  Field  Punishment  or  Crucifix- 
ion," had  been  his  lying  reply.  That  meant  being 
spread-eagled  on  the  wheel  of  a  gun  limber,  tied 
to  the  spokes  at  wrist  and  ankle,  with  the  toes  off 
the  ground  and  the  entire  weight  of  the  body  on 
the  outraged  nerves  and  muscles  of  those  members. 

Lacking  a  gun  limber,  the  Germans  used  a  post 
with  a  cross-bar  for  this  man's  case.  After  that,  this 
was  a  recognized  mode  of  punishment  for  many 
petty  offences  in  this  camp. 

It  is  true  that  this  form  of  punishment  is  a  part 
of  the  so-called  discipline  of  our  army.  But  it  was 
not  meted  out  for  offences  of  the  nature  of  this  man's 
and  if  it  had  been,  the  obvious  thing  for  the  sergeant- 
major  to  have  done  would  have  been  to  have  lied 
like  a  man;  instead  of  which  he  piled  horror  on 
horror  for  his  own  countrymen.  I  have  the  facts 
and  names  of  these  cases. 

There  will  be  many  strange  tales  to  come  from 
these  camps  in  the  fulness  of  time.  No  doubt  some 
will  go  against  us,  but  the  truth  must  be  told  at  all 
costs,  else  the  evil  goes  on  and  on. 

We  were  sent  out  one  day  to  dig  potato  trenches 
on  the  moors  in  a  terrible  rain.  We  stuck  our  spades 

122 


THE  TRAITOR  AT  VEHNMOOR 

in  the  ground  and  refused.  The  guards  had  French 
rifles  of  the  vintage  of  1870  which  carried  cartridges 
with  bullets  that  were  really  slugs  of  lead.  They 
began  to  load.  A  little  unteroffizzer  tugged  ex- 
citedly at  his  holster  for  the  revolver. 

A  big  Canadian  stepped  up:  "Wait  a  minute, 
mate."  He  reached  down  to  the  little  man's  waist 
and  drew  the  gun. 

He  offered  it  to  its  owner,  butt  forward,  "Now 
go  ahead  and  shoot,  and  we'll  chop  your  damned 
heads  off." 

The  rest  of  us  confirmed  our  leader's  statement  by 
gathering  around  threateningly  and  making  gruesome 
and  suggestive  motions  with  our  spades.  There  were 
two  hundred  of  us  and  only  forty  guards.  We 
meant  business  and  they  knew  it.  They  took  us 
back  to  the  laager  and  locked  us  up. 

The  following  night,  that  of  January  22nd,  our 
guards  were  reinforced  by  thirty  more. 


123 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AWAY  AGAIN 

Why  the  Prisoners  Walked— Cold  Feet  Again — The  Man 
Who  Turned  and  Fled — Brumley's  Precious  Legs — The 
Wait  in  the  Wood — The  Cunning  of  the  Hunted — Bad 
Days  in  the  Swamps — Within  Four  Miles  of  Freedom — 
The  Kaiser's  Birthday — Another  Trip  to  Holland. 

SIMMONS  and  Brumley,  together  with  my  com- 
panion of  the  first  escape,  had  determined  to  make 
a  break  for  it  with  me.  And  although  we  were  not 
quite  ready  at  this  time  the  addition  to  the  guards 
forced  our  decision.  We  had  a  scanty  supply  of 
biscuits  saved  up  and  I  had  wheedled  a  file  from  a 
friendly  Russian ;  Simmons  got  a  bit  of  a  map  from 
a  Frenchman;  and  we  secured  a  watch  from  a  Bel- 
gian. With  this  international  outfit  we  were  ready, 
except  that  we  lacked  a  sufficient  store  of  food. 
However,  there  was  no  help  for  that. 

The  laager  was  a  twelve-foot-high  barbed  wire 
124 


AWAY  AGAIN 


enclosure,  eighty  feet  wide  by  three  hundred  long, 
with  the  hut  occupying  the  greater  part  of  the 
central  space.  There  was  sufficient  room  below 
the  bottom  wire  to  permit  the  trained  camp  dogs 
to  get  in  and  out  at  us. 

They  patrolled  the  four-foot  lane  that  enclosed 
the  laager  and  wandered  up  and  down  it,  their 
tongues  out,  always  on  the  alert.  They  were  as 
well  confined  as  we  were,  since  the  outer  wall  of 
wire  was  built  down  close  to  the  ground.  They 
were  very  savage  and  seemed  instinctively  to  regard 
us  as  enemies;  as  all  good  German  dogs  should. 

The  sworn  evidence  of  prisoners  exchanged  since 
my  escape  mentions  that  in  one  case  an  imbecile  Bel- 
gian was  daily  led  out  to  the  fields,  wrapped  up  in 
several  layers  of  clothes  and  then  set  upon  by  the 
dogs  under  the  guidance  of  their  guards;  this  was 
for  the  better  instruction  of  the  dogs. 

At  each  corner  of  the  laager  there  hung  an  arc 
light.  The  sphere  of  light  from  those  at  the  end  did 
not  quite  meet  and  so  left  a  small  shadow  in  the 
center  of  the  end  fence. 

As  soon  as  night  came  we  arranged  that  six  other 
men  should  walk  to  and  fro  from  the  end  of  the 

125 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

hut  to  the  shadow  at  the  wire,  as  though  for  exer- 
cise. Others,  ourselves  included,  clustered  round  the 
end  of  the  hut.  I  watched  my  chance,  and  when 
the  moment  seemed  favorable,  fell  into  step  beside 
the  promenaders. 

We  swung  boldly  out,  intent  apparently,  on  noth- 
ing. Our  arrival  at  the  inner  wire  synchronized 
with  that  of  one  of  the  guards  beyond  the  outer  wire. 
We  turned  about  without  appearing  to  have  seen 
him.  Still  walking  briskly,  we  reached  the  hut  and 
turned  again.  The  guard's  back  was  now  turned; 
he  was  walking  away.  At  his  present  rate  of  travel 
he  should  be  twenty  yards  off  when  we  next  reached 
the  wire.  We  dared  not  chance  suspicion  by  slacken- 
ing our  gait.  My  heart  stopped. 

As  we  reached  the  shadow  I  fell  prone  and  lay  mo- 
tionless. No  dogs  were  in  sight.  Niagara  pounded 
in  at  my  ears  but  no  hostile  sound  indicated  that 
I  had  been  observed.  I  dragged  myself  carefully 
through  and  under  the  clearance  left  for  the  dogs, 
until  my  cap  brushed  the  lower  wires  of  the  main 
and  outer  fence.  My  feet  still  projected  beyond  the 
inner  wire  into  the  main  enclosure  so  that  on  their 

126 


'      .         ^'*V 


ray 


// 


. 


RECORD    OF    SECOND    ESCAPE    AND    RECAPTURE. 


AWAY  AGAIN 


next  trip  one  of  my  comrades  inadvertently  touched 
my  foot,  startling  me. 

I  held  the  strand  in  my  left  hand  and  fell  to  filing 
with  my  right  so  that  at  the  snap  there  should  be  no 
noisy  rebound  of  the  spring-like  wire.  A  post  was 
at  my  right,  and,  the  wire  having  been  nailed  to  it, 
I  was  safe  from  this  danger  on  that  side. 

The  sound  of  the  tramp  of  those  faithful  feet  re- 
ceded but  the  sound  of  them  came  strongly  back  to 
me  like  a  message  of  hope. 

By  the  time  they  were  back  once  more  I  had  cut 
through  three  strands  and  was  crawling  cautiously 
toward  my  objective,  a  pile  of  peat  two  hundred 
yards  distant,  which  seemed  to  offer  cover  as  a 
breathing  spot  and  starting  point.  On  the  signal 
from  the  promenaders  that  I  was  through  the  wire, 
Simmons  followed,  and  after  him,  Brumley.  The 
other  man  lived  up  to  the  example  he  had  previously 
set  himself.  He  drew  back  in  alarm  and  refused 
to  make  the  attempt. 

With  twenty-five  guards  all  about  and  some  only 
thirty  feet  away,  the  very  impudence  of  the  plan  of- 
fered our  only  hope  of  success.  I  still  lacked  fifty 
yards  of  the  peat  heap  when  I  heard  three  shots,  next 

127 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

the  dogs,  and  then  the  general  outcry  which  followed 
the  detection  of  Brumley. 

I  rose  to  my  feet  and  ran.  We  had  already 
mapped  out  our  course  in  advance  by  daylight,  for 
just  such  a  contingency;  so  I  struck  boldly  out.  I 
was  still  in  the  swamp  to  my  knees,  and  under  those 
conditions  even  the  short  start  we  had  might  prove 
sufficient,  since  our  pursuers  would  also  bog  down. 
The  swamp  was  intersected  by  a  series  of  small 
ditches  and  scattered  bushes,  which  added  to  the 
difficulty  of  the  passage.  I  heard  Brumley  flounder- 
ing and  swearing  behind  and  went  back  to  pull  him 
out  of  a  bottomless  ditch.  Simmons  joined  us  while 
I  was  still  struggling  with  him.  In  another 
hour  Brumley's  legs  played  out.  We  could  still 
make  out  the  lights  of  the  laager.  It  was  vitally 
necessary  to  push  on;  so  we  encouraged  him  as  best 
we  could  and  managed,  somehow,  to  reach  the  edge 
of  the  swamp  by  daylight.  We  put  ourselves  on  the 
meagre  rations  our  store  allowed,  one  biscuit  for 
breakfast  and  another  for  supper,  with  a  bit  of  choco- 
late on  the  side.  We  had  apparently  outdistanced 
the  pursuit.  We  prayed  that  our  friends  might  not 
be  too  severely  punished  for  their  part  in  our  escape. 

128 


AWAY  AGAIN 


We  lay  in  the  heather  all  day,  soaked  to  the  skin 
with  the  brackish  water  of  the  swamp,  the  odor  of 
which  still  hung  to  our  clothes.  It  was  January  and 
very  cold  and  sleep  was  impossible  under  such  con- 
ditions. We  nibbled  our  tiny  rations  and  struck 
out  as  soon  as  darkness  came.  Our  plan  was  to  go 
straight  across  country,  but  Brumley  could  not  navi- 
gate the  rough  going  of  the  fields;  although  on  the 
level  roads  he  made  out  fairly  well.  So  we  chanced 
it  on  the  latter. 

Brumley  was  struggling  along  manfully  but  his 
legs  caused  him  great  suffering.  At  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  lay  to  in  the  shadow  of  a 
clump  of  trees  at  the  roadside,  thinking  to  ease  him 
a  bit.  He  flung  himself  down.  Simmons  massaged 
Brumley's  legs  whilst  I  watched. 

We  had  just  said :  "Come  on,"  and  they  were  ris- 
ing to  their  feet,  when  another  figure  stepped  off  the 
road  and  in  amongst  our  trees.  It  was  so  dark  where 
we  stood  that  he  probably  would  not  have  seen  us 
had  not  Brumley  at  that  very  moment  been  rising 
to  his  feet.  He  appeared  as  much  surprised  as  we 
were  and  started  back  as  though  in  amazement. 
And  then  without  more  ado,  he  turned  and  fled  the 

129 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

way  we  had  come  whilst  we  made  what  haste  we 
could  in  the  opposite  direction,  all  equally  alarmed. 

Who  he  was  or  what  he  wanted,  we  could  only 
surmise.  If  he  was  not  also  an  escaped  prisoner  then 
he  must  have  been  badly  wanted  by  the  authorities 
to  have  been  travelling  in  such  a  fashion  at  such 
an  hour;  and  above  all,  to  have  been  so  alarmed  by 
this  chance  meeting  with  fugitives.  In  any  event  we 
wished  him  luck  and  promptly  forgot  all  about  him. 

Later  on  in  the  night  our  road  led  us  directly  into 
a  village.  We  hesitated  as  to  what  we  should  do. 
Brumley  was  for  pushing  through.  The  alternative 
was  to  go  round  and  through  the  fields,  lose  valuable 
time  and  play  out  Brumley's  precious  legs.  It  was 
past  midnight,  so  we  decided  on  the  village  route, 
and  started  on. 

We  passed  through  without  being  molested,  but 
just  as  we  were  leaving  the  other  side  some  civilians 
saw  us  and  shouted  "Halt !"  and  other  words  mean- 
ing "to  shoot."  We  paid  no  attention.  Espying  a 
wood  in  the  distance,  we  struck  out  for  it.  Brum- 
ley was  in  misery  and  threw  up  the  sponge.  We 
stopped  to  argue  with  him,  at  the  same  time  drag- 
ging him  along,  and  while  doing  so  saw  two  more 

130 


AWAY  AGAIN 


civilians  rushing  up  and  shouting  as  they  came. 
Lights  began  to  spring  up  all  over  the  village. 
Brumley  stopped  dead  and  refused  to  go  farther. 
We  had  previously  agreed  that  if  anything  should 
happen  to  any  one  of  us  the  others  were  to  push  on, 
every  man  for  himself.  No  good  could  be  gained  by 
fighting  when  we  were  so  hopelessly  outnumbered, 
so  Simmons  and  I  rushed  into  the  wood,  swung 
around  and  out  again  and  lay  down  on  the  edge  of  it, 
in  time  to  see  them  take  Brumley  and  come  sweeping 
by  us  in  hot  pursuit.  The  main  body  stopped  only 
a  moment  to  inspect  their  capture,  gathering  around 
poor  Brumley  so  that  we  could  not  at  first  see  what 
had  happened  to  him.  Then  several  of  them  started 
back  toward  the  village,  with  him  limping  along  at 
their  side.  Ten  yards  away  a  knot  of  them  gathered 
and  assisted  another  up  into  a  tree  to  watch  for  us. 
One  handed  him  a  rifle  and  the  pursuit  went  on  into 
the  wood.  Occasionally  we  heard  the  sentinel  stir- 
ring. 

We  scarcely  breathed.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
he  could  not  hear  the  pounding  of  our  hearts.  We 
grew  quite  stiff  in  our  cramped  positions,  but  feared 
to  shift  a  limb  and  waited  for  three-quarters  of  an 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

hour  before  we  dared  to  worm  our  way  cautiously 
in  the  other  direction.  The  snap  of  a  twig  was  like 
that  of  a  rifle  on  the  stillness  of  the  night. 

Once  we  stopped,  thinking  that  certainly  he  had 
heard  us.  It  was  only  the  beat  of  a  night  bird's 
wings.  We  dared  take  only  an  inch  at  a  time,  slid- 
ing forward  on  our  bellies  and  then — waiting. 

We  met  another  sentry  farther  up,  but  worked 
around  him  in  safety  and  with  more  of  ease,  as  we 
were  by  this  time  on  our  feet. 

Arriving  at  the  end  of  the  small  wood,  we  walked 
boldly  across  the  intervening  fields  to  another  one, 
large  enough  to  afford  cover  for  an  army  corps,  and 
there  felt  comparatively  safe. 

We  were,  however,  very  wet  and  cold  and  alto- 
gether miserable,  buoyed  up  only  by  the  liberty 
ahead.  As  it  was  only  two  o'clock,  we  pushed  on 
for  several  hours  before  stopping  to  lie  by  for  the 
day. 

For  days  we  carried  on  thus  without  discovery. 
Each  night  was  a  repetition  of  the  preceding  one,  an 
interminable  fighting  of  our  way  through  dark  for- 
ests, into  and  out  of  sloppy  ditches,  over  fields  and 

132 


AWAY  AGAIN 


through  thorny  hedges,  dodging  the  lights  of  vil- 
lages. 

We  went  solely  by  the  stars,  which  Simmons  un- 
derstood after  a  fashion,  and,  aided  by  our  map,  we 
held  fairly  well  to  our  general  direction.  We  had 
no  other  sources  of  information  than  our  own  good 
sense.  We  watched  the  sky  ahead  at  night  for  the 
glow  which  might  indicate  to  us  the  size  of  the  com- 
munity ahead;  and  aided  by  a  close  observation  of 
railroads,  telegraph  wires  and  the  quality  of  the 
wagon  roads  and  the  quantity  of  travel  on  them, 
were  able  to  form  fairly  accurate  estimates  of  where 
we  were  and  which  places  to  avoid.  Except  on  un- 
frequented byways  we  travelled  by  the  fields,  hug- 
ging the  road  from  a  distance.  This  made  travel 
arduous  but  safer. 

At  that,  we  were  sometimes  spoken  to  in  neigh- 
borly greeting.  We  grunted  indifferently  in  reply, 
as  an  unsociable  man  might.  When,  as  sometimes 
happened,  people  rose  up  in  front  of  us  from  gate- 
ways or  hidden  roads,  it  was  very  disconcerting. 
On  such  occasions  only  the  darkness  saved  us,  for 
we  took  no  chances,  wherever  there  were  lights. 

It  was  really  harder  in  the  day  time ;  when,  try  as 
133 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

we  might,  we  could  not  count  on  avoiding  for  our 
hiding  place  the  scene  of  some  labourer's  toil  or  per- 
haps the  covert  of  some  child's  play.  We  slept  by 
turns  with  one  always  on  guard.  It  was  difficult  in- 
deed for  the  guard  not  to  neglect  his  duty,  so  ut- 
terly weary  were  we.  The  lying  position  we  needs 
must  retain  all  day  long  aided  that  tendency,  and 
yet  we  were  always  so  wet  and  cold  that  real  sleep 
was  difficult  to  secure. 

In  this  district  the  swamps  were  numerous  and 
difficult  to  cross.  The  small  ditches  and  canals  that 
drained  them  or  the  almost  equally  swampy  fields 
added  to  our  grief.  The  feet  slipped  back  at  each 
muddy  step :  We  fell  into  ditches :  Dogs  barked : 
And  we  almost  wept. 

Once  a  dog  helped  us  by  his  barking.  It  was  night 
and  we  were  crossing  a  very  bad  swamp,  an  old 
peat  bog  which  was  full  of  the  ditches  and  holes  that 
the  peat  had  been  taken  from.  These  were  full  of 
black  water  which  merged  so  naturally  into  the  pre- 
vailing darkness  that  we  repeatedly  fell  into  them. 
We  floundered  out  of  one  only  to  fall  into  another, 
uncertain  where  we  were  going  and  lost  to  all  sense 
of  direction.  There  was  no  vestige  of  track  or  road. 

134 


AWAY  AGAIN 


It  was  then  that  the  dog  barked.  We  stopped  to 
listen,  conversing  in  low  tones.  Certainly,  we 
thought,  the  dog  must  be  near  a  house  and  that 
meant  dry  land  and  a  footing.  So  we  advanced  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound,  stopping  to  listen  to  each 
fresh  outburst  so  as  to  make  certain  that  we  should 
not  approach  too  closely.  Apparently  he  had  smelt 
us  on  the  wind. 

Before  we  reached  the  dog  we  felt  the  solid  ground 
under  foot  and  were  off  once  more  at  a  tangent  from 
the  sound  of  his  barking. 

The  swamps  were  a  great  trouble  to  us,  as  were 
also  some  of  the  fields,  so  cut  up  by  ditches  and 
hedges  were  they,  and  yet,  in  order  to  avoid  the  roads 
and  the  wires,  we  frequently  had  to  lay  a  circuitous 
route  to  avoid  these  obstacles  or  else  chance  the  road, 
which  we  would  not  do.  Often,  when  we  could  see 
our  course  lying  straight  ahead  on  the  road,  we  put 
about  and  tacked  off  and  away  from  it  because  a 
parallel  course  was  impossible  on  account  of  the 
swampy  nature  of  the  ground.  With  these  bad 
places  passed  we  could  perhaps  pull  back  to  our  true 
course  again,  but  only  after  double  the  travel  that 
should  have  been  necessary. 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

However,  we  did  not  mind  that  so  much.  Nor  did 
we  greatly  mind  the  short  rations  we  were  on.  The 
other  privations  were  too  severe  for  us  to  notice  these 
minor  ones. 

The  worst  was  the  continual  state  of  wetness  and 
the  resultant  coldness  of  our  bodies.  It  was  not  so 
bad  at  night  when  we  were  walking  and  so  kept  our 
blood  circulating,  but  by  day  it  was  very  bad.  We 
used  to  pray  for  night  and  the  end  of  our  enforced 
rest.  We  were  never  dry  or  warm  but  were  always 
very  cold  and  miserable.  The  sun,  on  those  rare 
occasions  when  it  came  forth,  did  not  appear  until 
ten  or  eleven  in  the  morning.  By  mid-afternoon 
it  was  again  a  thing  of  the  past.  At  best  it  was 
very  weak  and  we  had  to  hide  in  the  bushes  where 
it  could  not  reach  us.  All  we  could  do  was  to  take  off 
one  garment  at  a  time  and  thrust  it  cautiously  out 
near  the  edge  of  our  hiding-place  to  some  spot  on 
which  the  sun  shone.  Under  these  conditions  we 
grew  steadily  weaker  on  our  allowance  of  two  bis- 
cuits a  day;  for  the  time  of  year  precluded  the  possi- 
bility of  there  being  any  crops  for  us  to  fall  back 
upon  for  food,  and  it  was  too  risky  a  proceeding  to 
attempt  to  steal  from  the  householders. 

136 


GERMAN     PRISONERS    MARCHING    THROUGH    GOOD    NATURED    ENGLISH 
CROWDS    AT   SOUTHAMPTON. 


HK.H      EXPLOSIVES      HI   KSTING     OVKR     GERMAN      TRENCHES. 
DEAD     I\     FOREGROUND. 


BRITISH 


AWAY  AGAIN 


On  the  eighth  day  we  reached  the  River  Ems. 
We  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  it,  as  it  was  the 
only  large  one  on  our  map  that  lay  on  the  route  we 
had  chosen,  and  we  had  passed  nothing  even  faintly 
resembling  it,  with  the  exception  of  some  large  ca- 
nals, which  were  easily  recognizable  as  such  and 
which  we  had  swum.  We  made  out  trees  which  ap- 
peared to  be  on  the  other  shore. 

We  regretfully  decided  that  it  was  too  late  to 
attempt  the  crossing  that  night.  The  daylight 
proved  the  line  of  trees  to  be  merely  the  tops  of  a 
flooded  woodland.  The  shore  was  a  good  quarter 
of  a  mile  away.  It  was  January;  the  water  was  cold 
and  full  of  floating  ice,  and  very  swift.  Fording  was 
out  of  the  question.  For  two  days  and  nights  we 
wandered  up  and  down  the  bank,  vainly  seeking  a 
boat  or  raft  with  which  to  make  the  crossing.  We 
finally  discovered  a  large  bridge,  which  was  sub- 
merged except  for  its  flood-time  arches.  There  was 
no  sign  of  life  and  it  looked  safe,  so  we  proceeded  to 
cross.  We  discovered,  however,  that  we  had  not 
reached  the  bridge  proper,  but  were  merely  on  the 
approach  to  it.  We  dropped  off  onto  the  main  steel 
portion.  The  wind  beat  the  cold  rain  against  us  so 

137 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

that  we  could  neither  see  nor  hear.  However,  we 
went  on  and  were  nearly  across  when  suddenly  a 
light  flashed  on  us  and  we  heard  a  startled  "Halt !" 

We  could  barely  make  out  the  mass  of  buildings 
that  indicated  the  line  of  the  shore.  It  seemed  too 
bad  to  throw  up  the  sponge  so  easily. 

I  said  under  my  breath  to  Simmons :  "We'll  push 
right  on,"  and  loudly:  "Hollander!"  thinking  we 
might  perhaps  get  far  enough  away  to  make  a  run 
for  it.  But  there  was  no  show:  It  was  too  far  to 
the  shore. 

There  was  a  shouted  command  and  the  clatter  of 
rifle-bolts  striking  home.  It  was  no  use.  We 
stopped  and  shouted  that  we  would  not  run,  and 
then  waited  while  they  advanced  toward  us. 

The  elderly  Landsturmers  guarding  the  bridge 
gathered  us  in  and  took  us  over  to  their  guardroom 
at  the  hotel.  We  judged  the  incident  to  be  an  epoch 
in  the  monotony  of  their  soldierly  duties.  They  were 
very  good  to  us.  Two  of  them  moved  away  from 
the  fire  to  make  room  for  our  wet  misery  and  they 
gave  us  a  pot  of  boiling  water,  two  bivouac  cocoa 
tablets  and  a  loaf  of  black  bread.  The  news  spread, 
and  civilians  dropped  in  to  stare  at  and  question  us. 

138 


AWAY  AGAIN 


In  the  morning  the  entire  population  came  to  see  the 
Engldnder  prisoners.  We  learned  that  we  were 
only  four  miles  from  Holland,  and  cursed  aloud. 
The  town  was  Lathen  and  when,  the  next  morning, 
we  discovered  that  it  was  gayly  bedecked  with  flags 
and  bunting  we  decided  that  we  were  indeed  per- 
sonages of  note  if  we  could  cause  such  a  celebration. 
However,  it  was  only  the  Kaiser's  birthday. 

In  the  afternoon  they  took  us  by  rail  to  Meppen 
and  shoved  us  in  the  civilian  jail,  where  we  were 
allowed  a  daily  ration  of  two  ounces  of  black  bread, 
one  pint  of  gruel  and  three-quarters  of  a  pint  of  cof- 
fee for  two  days,  until,  on  January  thirtieth,  an  es- 
cort came  from  Vehnmoor.  They  roped  us  together 
with  a  clothes-line,  arm  to  arm,  and  marched  us 
through  the  principal  streets  by  a  roundabout  route 
to  the  station  so  that  all  might  see. 

We  were  unwashed,  unshaven  and  so  altogether 
disreputable  as  to  satisfy  the  most  violent  hatred — 
such  for  instance  as  we  found  here.  It  did  not  re- 
quire our  pride  to  keep  our  hearts  up  or  to  keep  us 
from  feeling  the  humiliation  of  so  cruel  an  ordeal. 
We  simply  did  not  experience  the  painful  sensations 
that  such  a  proceeding  would  ordinarily  arouse  in 

139 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

the  breast  of  any  man;  just  as  after  heavy  shell-fire 
no  man  feels  either  fear  or  courage ;  he  is  too  dazed 
and  stupid  for  either.  Many  spat  at  us  and  good 
old  Engldnder  Sckwein  came  to  us  from  every  side. 
It  seemed  like  meeting  an  old  friend,  after  our  few 
days  away  from  it.  The  faces  of  these  people  were 
different  from  those  we  had  left  at  camp  but  their 
hearts  were  the  same.  They  lined  the  streets  and 
jeered  at  us.  But  we  were  too  tired  and  hungry 
to  care. 

And  that  ended  that  trip  to  Holland. 


140 


CHAPTER  XV 

PAYING  THE  PIPER 

Sheer  Starvation — Slipping  It  Over  the  Sentry — The  Court 
Martial — Thirty  Days  Cells — No  Place  for  a  Gourmand 
— In  Napoleon's  Footsteps — Parniewinkel  Camp — "Like 
Father,  Like  Son" — The  Last  Kind  German — Running 
Amuck — The  Torture  of  the  Russians — The  Continental 
Times— "K.  of  K.  Is  Gone !" 

Upon  arrival  at  camp,  we  were  put  in  cells  for 
eleven  days  while  awaiting  our  court-martial. 

During  that  period  we  suffered  terribly  from  sheer 
starvation.  The  daily  rations  consisted  of  a  poor 
soup  and  a  small  quantity  of  black  bread.  Hungry 
though  I  was,  there  was  only  one  way  by  which  I 
could  eat  it — hold  my  breath  and  swallow.  I  am 
aware  that  the  Germans  consider  this  food  quite 
palatable  but  that  may  be  because  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  it.  It  was  to  us  the  resort  of  starving 
men.  The  cells  were  quite  dark — four-by-eight- 
foot  wooden  boxes.  The  confinement  and  short  ra- 

141 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

tions  on  top  of  our  arduous  journey,  during  which 
we  had  had  nothing  but  the  two  biscuits  a  day, 
caused  us  to  grow  weaker  daily. 

Our  friends,  however,  contrived  occasionally  to 
get  portions  of  their  food  to  us.  They  maintained 
a  sentry  of  their  own,  whose  duty  it  was  to  watch 
for  and  report  our  trips  to  the  latrine.  It  was  unsafe 
for  us  to  ask  for  this  permission  more  than  once  a 
day  with  the  same  guard.  As  the  latter  was  fre- 
quently changed,  however,  we  were  enabled  to  work 
the  scheme  to  the  limit. 

At  the  worst,  this  let  us  out  of  our  cells  for  a  few 
minutes;  and,  if  we  were  lucky,  enabled  us  to  get  a 
handful  of  broken  food.  Seeing  us  come  out,  the 
prisoner  on  watch  would  stroll  into  the  hut  and  pass 
the  word.  Shortly,  another  would  come  out  to  us 
and  in  passing  frequently  manage  to  slip  us  some- 
thing. On  one  long-to-be-remembered  occasion, 
a  man  of  the  King's  Own  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry, 
managed  to  "square"  the  guard,  a  pleasant-faced 
young  German,  in  some  manner  we  could  never 
fathom,  so  that  the  latter  actually  brought  to  us  two 
spoons  and  a  wash  basin  full  of  boiled  barley,  which 

142 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


we  ate  in  the  latrine.  That  was  the  most  humane 
act  experienced  from  German  hands  during  my  fif- 
teen months'  sojourn  in  Germany. 

On  the  eleventh  day  we  were  marched  out  to  what 
would  be  the  Germans'  orderly  room.  A  Canadian 
who  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  German  acted  as 
interpreter.  He  did  what  he  could  for  us,  which 
was  little  enough. 

Asked  why  we  had  tried  to  escape,  we  feared  to 
tell  the  truth,  that  we  had  been  forced  to  it  by  ill- 
treatment;  so  merely  stated  that  we  were  tired  of 
Germany  and  wanted  to  go  home.  The  presiding 
officer  said:  "Well,  you  fellows  have  been  a  lot 
of  trouble  to  us.  I've  been  told  to  tell  you  that  if 
you  give  us  any  more;  we'll  ha\e  a  little  shooting 
bee."  We  were  sentenced  to  thirty  days'  dark  cells. 
That  was  our  court-martial. 

One  lucky  thing  happened  to  us  here :  When  they 
took  our  map  away  it  fell  in  two,  as  a  result  of  hav- 
ing been  folded  in  our  pockets.  The  officer  crumpled 
one  piece  up,  made  a  handful  of  it  and  tossed  it 
away,  at  the  same  time  shoving  the  other  half  at  me, 
which  I  eagerly  clutched.  That  piece  showed  the 
portion  of  Germany  adjoining  the  Holland  border. 

143 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Our  thirty  days'  dark  cells  were  spent  in  the  mili- 
tary prison  at  Oldenburg.  As  before,  they  were 
four-by-eight  feet  in  size,  but  with  a  high  ceiling 
which  gave  me  room  to  stand  on  my  hands  for  ex- 
ercise. Each  of  us  was  confined  alone.  The  walls 
and  floor  of  the  cells  were  of  stone ;  the  shutters,  of 
steel  which  were  always  closed.  There  was  no  furni- 
ture other  than  the  three  boards  which  served  as 
the  mockery  of  a  bed  and  which  were  chained  up 
to  the  wall  every  morning.  A  small  shelf  which  held 
the  water  pitcher  was  the  only  other  furnishing.  No 
ray  of  light  was  permitted  to  enter  the  place.  The 
month  was  February  but  there  were  no  blankets,  and 
the  place  was  unheated.  The  rations  consisted  of 
half  a  pound  of  black  bread  and  a  pitcher  of  water, 
which  were  thrust  in  to  us  every  morning,  so  that 
except  for  the  guard  who  unchained  the  boards  at 
night  we  had  no  visitation  in  the  twenty-four  long, 
long  hours. 

I  cannot  remember  that  I  brooded  much.  Rather, 
I  let  my  mind  run  out  as  a  tired  sleeper  might, 
which  was  no  doubt  fortunate  for  me.  My  family 
were  greatly  in  my  thoughts.  I  wondered  how  my 
wife  was  making  out  and  if  she  was  receiving  her 

IdA. 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


separation  allowance  all  right,  for  I  had  heard  of 
many  cases  where  the  reverse  had  happened;  and 
whether  the  boys  were  well  and  going  to  school.  I 
hoped  that  all  was  well  with  them  and  that  they 
did  not  worry  too  much  over  my  lot. 

As  I  was  not  permitted  either  to  send  or  receive 
letters  during  the  period  of  my  trial  and  incarcera- 
tion, my  wife  was  in  fact  in  great  distress  of  mind 
about  me  as  she  received  no  word  for  many  weeks 
and  imagined  the  worst.  And  when  at  last  I  could 
write  it  was  only  to  say  that  although  I  had  been 
well  I  had  been  unable  to  write,  leaving  her  to  draw 
her  own  conclusions. 

The  cell  door  opened  promptly  at  five  o'clock 
every  morning.  We  were  allowed  ten  minutes  in 
which  to  clean  our  cell,  go  to  the  lavatory  and  wash 
up,  all  under  guard.  These  were  the  only  occasions 
during  which  we  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  one 
another  or  the  other  prisoners.  These  rites  were  all 
performed  in  silence,  and  communication  of  any  de- 
scription was  forbidden  and  so  keenly  watched  for 
as  to  be  impossible.  However,  Simmons  and  I  got 
what  small  comfort  we  could  out  of  seeing  one  an- 
other frequently,  and  by  this  time  there  had  grown 

145 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

up  between  us  such  a  mutual  respect  as  to  make  us 
value  this  highly.  The  other  prisoners  included  Ger- 
mans as  well  as  our  allies  and  there  were  some 
civilian  German  prisoners.  The  German  soldier 
prisoners  were  mostly  in  for  committing  the  various 
crimes  of  soldiering  which  in  the  British  Army  would 
have  put  them  under  the  general  head  of  defaulters. 
That  classification,  however,  had  been  done  away 
with  in  the  German  Army.  The  slightest  infringe- 
ment of  discipline  was  punished  with  cells.  Non- 
commissioned officers  received  the  same  punishment 
as  the  men,  without,  however,  losing  their  rank,  as 
would  have  been  the  case  in  our  army. 

Upon  finishing  the  ten  minutes  allotted  to  us  we 
were  forced  to  re-enter  our  cells  and  stand  against 
the  wall,  at  the  back,  so  that  we  could  neither  see  nor 
communicate  with  one  another  until  the  guard  got 
around  a  few  minutes  later  and  looked  in  to  see  that 
all  was  as  it  should  be  before  slamming  the  door. 

There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  stretch  the  ration 
out  for  two  meals.  I  tried  to  and  gave  it  up.  And 
after  that  I  ate  the  bread,  filled  up  on  water  and 
sat  down  on  the  cold  stone  floor  for  another  twenty- 
four  hours  of  waiting. 

146 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


My  thoughts  dwelt  greatly  on  food.  We  were 
supposed  to  receive  soup  every  fourth  day,  but  we 
did  not.  The  prisoners  of  other  nationalities  did, 
and  in  addition  were  exercised  regularly.  At  least 
we  could  hear  the  rattle  of  their  spoons  against  their 
bowls  and  the  tramp  of  their  feet.  The  slow  starv- 
ing was,  to  my  mind,  the  worst.  And  after  that  the 
loss  of  sleep.  If  one  did  drop  off,  the  cold  soon 
caused  a  miserable  awakening.  I  tried  not  to  think, 
and  did  all  the  gymnastic  drill  I  knew,  even  to  stand- 
ing on  my  hands  in  the  darkness  of  the  cell.  I  knew 
that  if  I  gave  up  it  would  be  all  off,  for  I  could  daily 
feel  myself  getting  wabbly  as  the  confinement  and 
starvation,  added  to  my  already  enfeebled  and 
starved  condition  when  I  entered,  began  to  tell  on 
me.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  I  had  already 
served  eleven  days'  solitary  confinement  on  insuffi- 
cient food,  after  several  days  of  jail  on  ditto,  and 
eight  days  while  escaping,  during  which  I  had  been 
continually  wet  and  without  food,  other  than  the 
two  biscuits  daily,  before  beginning  to  serve  this  sen- 
tence. Simmons,  of  course,  was  in  the  same  plight. 

The  last  day,  that  of  February  22nd,  rolled 
around  finally.  We  were  taken  from  our  cells  at  nine 

147 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

o'clock  and  marched  out  for  an  unknown  destination 
which  we  knew  only  as  a  stronger  punishment  camp 
than  the  others  we  had  been  in.  Ahead  of  us  we 
saw  poor  Brumley;  but  were  unable  to  communicate 
with  him,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  he  saw  us  or 
not.  That  was  all  we  ever  learned  directly  of  his 
fate.  His  wife,  in  Toronto,  has  since  informed  me 
that  he  is  still  in  Germany  and  has  only  lately  been 
recaptured  after  another  attempt  at  escape. 

At  eleven  that  night  we  arrived  at  our  destination. 
This  was  the  strong  punishment  camp  of  Parnie- 
winkel,  in  Hanover,  on  the  road  over  which  Na- 
poleon had  marched  to  his  doom  at  Moscow.  We 
wondered  if  we,  too,  were  going  to  ours. 

We  had  had  no  food  that  day,  nor  did  we  get  any 
that  night,  but  were  shoved  into  a  hut  full  of  Rus- 
sians, who  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  us.  We 
were  so  long  of  hair  and  beard,  so  ragged,  so  emaci- 
ated and  so  altogether  filthy  that  they  must  have 
thought  us  anything  but  British  soldiers. 

Later  we  found  that  there  were,  in  all,  between 
four  and  five  hundred  Russian,  eighty  French  and 
Belgian,  and,  including  ourselves,  eleven  British 
prisoners,  of  whom  Simmons  and  I  were  the  only 

148 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


Canadians,  all  shoved  into  two  huts  in  the  middle  of 
the  usual  barbed-wire  laager. 

As  Giessen  was  the  best  camp,  so  this  one  was  the 
worst  of  all  those  we  were  to  know.  It  was  not  so 
wet  as  the  swamp  at  Vehnmoor,  but  the  drinking 
water  was  even  worse  than  the  brackish,  peat-laden 
water  there.  The  general  sanitary  arrangements  were 
terrible  and  the  food  was  worse  than  at  Giessen, 
the  camp  in  which  that  lack  had  been  the  worst  fea- 
ture among  many  bad  ones.  And  on  top  of  it  all 
the  treatment  was  very  bad,  much  worse  than  any 
we  had  previously  known. 

A  soup,  made  from  a  handful  of  pickled  fish  roe 
and  a  few  potatoes,  was  a  stock  dish,  and  terrible  to 
taste.  On  one  night  a  week  we  received  a  raw  herr- 
ing fresh  from  the  brine  barrel,  which  we  were  sup- 
posed to  eat  raw  and  uncleaned,  but  could  not.  On 
one  day  in  seven  there  was  a  weak  cabbage  soup  and 
of  course,  a  small  daily  ration  of  potato-and-rye 
bread.  Fortunately,  our  parcels  were  beginning  to 
arrive  by  this  time,  so  that,  in  fact,  we  fared  better 
than  at  any  of  the  better  camps,  in  the  matter  of 
food.  With  the  Russians  it  was  different,  and  we 
used  to  give  our  soup  to  them  in  exchange  for  their 

149 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

share  of  boiling  water,  which  we  used  in  conjunction 
with  the  contents  of  our  parcels  and  which  they  had 
no  use  for  anyway,  especially  for  washing  purposes. 

It  was  difficult  to  get  an  opportunity  to  boil  water 
for  the  making  of  tea  or  cocoa,  even  when  parcels 
furnished  the  essentials,  as  there  were  so  many  men 
and  so  few  stoves  that  it  was  a  constant  struggle  to 
get  near  the  latter. 

However,  as  we  had  refused  to  work,  we  did  not 
require  very  much  food.  We  used  also  to  give  our 
black  bread  to  the  Russians,  for  which  they  insisted 
on  doing  our  washing,  though  it  was  little  enough  of 
that  they  did  for  themselves.  They  were  very  good 
and  simple  men. 

Ours  was  a  good  bunch  of  fellows  and  gave  freely 
to  one  another  and  to  the  unfortunate  Russians,  who 
rarely  received  parcels.  There  was  no  selling  or 
trading  on  misfortune  here,  as  in  some  of  the  other 
camps  we  had  been  in.  The  Germans  themselves 
were  short  of  necessities  here.  They  hated  to  come 
to  the  Engldnders  to  buy,  so  used  to  send  the  Rus- 
sians to  beg  for  soap  which  they  would  not  use  in 
any  event,  and  in  this  case  simply  sold  to  the  guards. 
Discovering  this,  we  shut  down  on  indiscriminate 

150 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


giving.  Soap  or  any  other  fatty  substance  was  by 
that  time  very  scarce  in  Germany,  amongst  the  lower 
classes  at  least.  I  was  the  only  "non-com"  in  our  lot, 
and  so  put  up  the  stripes  I  had  taken  down  to  avoid 
giving  Augen  Rechts  at  Vehnmoor.  I  used  that  au- 
thority now  to  persuade  my  fellow  Britishers  to  give 
to  the  unfortunate  Russians  rather  than  to  the 
French,  who,  like  ourselves,  were  receiving  parcels. 

A  boy  of  five  years  or  thereabouts  used  to  come 
regularly  to  the  wire,  upon  which  he  would  climb 
and  hang  like  some  foul  spider  on  its  web.  Grasp- 
ing it  in  both  small  hands  and  kicking  vainly  at  it 
and  us,  he  would  scream :  "Englander  Schwein,"  and 
I  know  not  what  other  names,  spitting  venom  like 
a  little  wildcat.  This  was  not  the  riffraff  of  the 
camp.  The  boy  was  the  son  of  the  camp  Command- 
ant, and  the  apple  of  his  father's  eye  and  the  thing 
was  often  done  under  that  eye  and  amid  the  vicious 
applause  of  the  young  father  and  his  terrible  crew. 

The  Commandant  was  a  young  chap,  a  lieutenant. 
What  he  lacked  in  years  he  made  up  in  hate.  He 
was  known  as  an  England  hater.  We  were  poison 
to  him.  The  latrine,  a  mere  shallow  pit,  was  just 
outside  the  door  of  our  hut  and  the  Commandant 


saw  to  it  that  the  latrine  fatigue  was  always  wished 
off  on  to  the  British.  We  were  made  to  bail  it  out 
daily  with  buckets,  which  we  then  carried  to  the 
surrounding  fields,  on  which  we  spread  the  contents 
while  the  Commandant  and  guards  laughed.  The 
unteroffizier  in  immediate  charge  of  us,  if  left  alone 
would  not  make  us  do  this.  He  was  the  last  kind 
German  I  remember,  and  I  have  mentioned  all  whom 
I  can  recall  as  having  performed  the  slightest  act  of 
kindness  to  us,  even  of  the  most  negative  quality. 
He  used  to  say  that  it  was  a  pity  to  treat  us  so; 
that  such  a  job  was  good  enough  for  the  Russians, 
who  were  no  soldiers,  anyhow,  and  who  smelled  bad 
and  would  not  wash;  but  for  us  who  were  soldiers 
it  was  a  great  shame. 

The  vermin  were  so  bad  here  that  we  chanced 
further  trouble  by  writing  on  post  cards  as  though 
to  friends  in  England,  and  complained.  We  knew 
that  they  would  be  intercepted  and  go  to  the  Com- 
mandant. They  did.  We  were  marched  to  Celle- 
laager  to  go  through  the  fumigating  machine.  We 
went  into  a  large  hut,  stripped,  tied  our  clothes  in  a 
bundle  and  shoved  them  into  the  large  oven  to  bake 
for  five  hours  while  we  sat  round  with  nothing  on 

'52 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


but  a  smile.  In  the  interval  we  were  made  to  run 
the  clippers  closely  over  our  heads  and  bodies.  There 
were  sores  on  some  of  the  Russians  as  big  as  a  hand, 
eaten  deep  into  by  the  vermin  and  the  bones  threat- 
ened to  break  through  the  skin  of  some  as  we  sat 
about  naked,  shivering.  Uncleanly  at  best  and  de- 
nied soap  here,  the  lower  class  of  them  neglected  all 
the  rules  of  cleanliness.  Their  "non-coms"  were  the 
reverse,  being  almost  without  exception  men  of  some 
education  and  general  attainments. 

Upon  our  return  to  this  camp  we  were  told  by  a 
friendly  Russian  in  the  orderly  room  that  the  post 
cards  were  being  held  there  as  evidence  against  us. 
We  begged  him  to  give  them  to  us.  He  did  so,  and 
we  had  barely  finished  destroying  them  when  a  Ger- 
man officer,  accompanied  by  a  file  of  men,  entered 
and  demanded  them.  We  explained  that  they  had 
been  destroyed.  He  would  not  believe  us.  We 
pointed  to  the  charred  ashes.  He  searched  our 
bodies,  our  beds  and  the  scanty  furnishing  of  the  hut, 
naturally  without  avail.  The  Russian  orderly  was 
severely  admonished  and  our  fire  was  cut  off  as 
punishment. 

The  treatment  at  this  camp  was  uniformly  bad. 
153 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

The  next  morning  the  Raus  blew  at  four-thirty  in- 
stead of  five,  as  was  customary.  While  we  were 
still  engaged  in  dressing  the  guards  rushed  in,  some 
with  fixed  bayonets,  others  with  them  gripped  short, 
as  with  daggers.  The  leader  wore  a  button,  the  in- 
signia of  non-commissioned  rank.  He  gave  a  ber- 
serker roar  of  rage  and  charged  furiously  at  an  in- 
offensive Russian  and  stabbed  the  poor  fellow  in  the 
neck;  while  his  victim  lay  back  in  pleading  terror, 
with  outstretched  arms.  And  then,  still  roaring,  he 
slashed  a  Frenchman  who  was  walking  past,  on  the 
back  of  the  head.  Going  down  the  hut,  he  espied 
Harckum,  of  the  East  Lancashire  Regiment,  tying 
his  shoes.  Without  warning  he  plunged  at  him,  and, 
striking,  laid  open  the  entire  side  of  the  man's  face, 
splitting  the  ear  so  that  it  hung  in  two  pieces.  This 
was  all  quite  in  order  because  we  were  slow  in 
dressing. 

The  Russians,  with  the  exception  of  a  lucky  few 
who  received  some  from  a  Russian  society  in  Eng- 
land, got  no  parcels,  and  suffered  accordingly.  They 
were  more  amenable  to  discipline  than  we  were,  and 
perhaps  because  of  their  hunger  used  to  go  out  daily 
to  work  on  the  moors  from  daylight  until  dark. 

154 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


They  were  a  cheerful  lot,  considering  everything, 
little  given  to  thinking  of  their  situation  and  not 
blessed  by  any  great  love  of  country  nor  perhaps  the 
pleasantest  recollections  of  it;  and  to  that  extent  at 
least  appeared  to  be  comparatively  satisfied,  even 
under  ill  treatment.  Ill  fed  as  they  were,  they  used 
frequently  to  fall  out  at  their  work  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion, which  the  Germans  said  was  only  laziness 
and  malingering  and  for  which  they  would  be  re- 
turned to  a  point  near  the  laager,  where  we  were,  for 
their  punishment.  By  the  Commandant's  orders  this 
consisted  of  forcing  them  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  two 
lines  of  soldiers  who  jabbed  them  with  bayonets  if 
they  fell  into  a  walk — until  the  victims  could  run 
no  more  and  dropped  in  their  tracks.  The  Germans 
would  then  roll  their  eyelids  back  for  signs  of  sham- 
ming, and  if  any  such  indications  were  shown,  they 
were  jabbed  again — and  usually  were,  anyhow — 
until  their  failure  to  respond  proved  that  they  were 
really  unconscious. 

This  happened  with  alarming  frequency  on  a 
regular  schedule,  forenoon  and  afternoon,  to  all  Rus- 
sians who  refused  to  work.  On  one  occasion  we  saw 
six  or  eight  of  them  laid  out  unconscious  at  one  time 

155 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

in  this  manner.  We  wished  to  do  something  for 
them,  but  were  refused  permission,  and  one  man 
who  was  thought  to  be  a  ring  leader  was  selected  to 
make  an  example  of;  he  was  awarded  seven  days' 
cells. 

We  had  previously  agreed  that  if  we  were 
awarded  this  punishment;  we  should  refuse  to  run 
the  gauntlet  and  should  let  them  do  their  worst. 
There  was  no  more  heard  of  all  this,  but  after  that 
the  Russians  were  punished  on  the  other  side  of  a 
belt  of  trees  just  outside  the  laager,  where  we  could 
not  see  them,  though  their  piteous  cries  could  plainly 
be  distinguished. 

Three  of  the  Russians  broke  away  from  this  camp, 
and  rinding  themselves  near  the  stores,  crawled  in 
the  window  and  stole  a  half  of  a  pig.  They  were 
recaptured,  and,  after  doing  thirty  days'  cells,  were 
forced  to  work  out  the  price  of  the  pig  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  pfennigs — or  six  cents — a  day,  which  ordi- 
narily would  have  been  credited  to  them  for  the 
buying  of  necessities.  And  pork  came  high  in  Ger- 
many. 

There  was  one  kind  of  pill  for  all  ailments.  That 
however,  may  have  been  only  stupidity.  At  least 

156 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 


the  practice  is  not  confined  to  the  prison  camps  nor 
the  army  of  Germany,  as  all  British  soldiers  know. 
But  even  these  were  not  for  the  British. 

On  another  occasion  a  party  of  Russians  arrived 
from  another  camp  twelve  miles  away. 

They  said  that  some  Englishmen  there  who  had 
refused  to  work  had  been  shot  at  until  all  were 
wounded  in  the  legs. 

We  continued  to  receive  our  old  friend,  the  Con- 
tinental Times,  here,  and  through  it  first  learned  of 
the  Skager-Rack  or  Jutland  battle,  in  which,  the 
paper  claimed,  over  thirty  major  British  ships  had 
been  sunk,  in  addition  to  a  larger  number  of  smaller 
ones.  The  Times  said  it  was  a  great  victory  for  the 
Germans.  The  last  we  doubted  and  the  first  we 
knew  to  be  untrue,  since  some  of  the  ships  they 
claimed  to  have  sunk  had  been  destroyed  previous 
to  our  capture,  nine  months  before.  It  was  in  the 
Times,  too,  that  we  first  heard  of  Kitchener's  end. 
We  could  not  believe  it,  and  for  a  month  laughed 
at  the  guard's  insistence  on  the  story,  until  one  day 
a  post  card  arrived  from  England,  saying:  "K.  of  K. 
is  gone."  That  was  a  terrible  blow  to  us,  for  to  the 

1.57 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

British  soldier;  Kitchener  was  the  tangible  expres- 
sion of  the  might  of  his  Empire. 

Some  of  our  party  of  eleven  British  had  been 
prisoners  since  Mons  and  they  were  in  a  very  bad 
way.  The  poor  food,  the  lack  of  the  fundamental- 
necessities  of  the  human  frame,  the  terrible  mo- 
notony of  the  continual  barbed  wire,  the  same  faces 
round  them,  mostly  unfriendly,  all  combined  to  have 
a  most  depressing  effect,  not  only  upon  their  bodies, 
but  upon  their  minds.  Many  of  them  will  never  be 
of  any  use  again.  Compared  to  Ladysmith,  when 
that  place  was  besieged  in  the  South  African  War, 
the  latter,  terrible  though  it  was,  was  far  and  away 
better  than  this,  even  if  we  did  live  on  horse  meat  at 
the  last  in  Ladysmith. 

There  was  a  certain  amount  of  vice  here,  induced 
by  the  life.  A  kilted  Highlander  was  accused  of 
having  fathered  a  child  in  a  German  family,  where 
he  had  been  employed.  We  did  not  learn  the  facts 
of  the  case;  but  such,  at  least,  was  camp  gossip  and 
it  served  to  detract  materially  from  the  habitual 
despondency  of  our  lot. 


158 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 

Saving  Up  for  the  Day — A  Special  Brand — Watchful 
Waiting — Off  Again — Why  the  Man  in  the  Moon 
Laughed — A  German  Idyll — The  Narrow  Escapes. 

SIMMONS  and  I  had  been  planning  on  another  es- 
cape ever  since  our  recapture.  So  we  kept  on  our 
good  behaviour,  while  we  saved  up  food  for  Der 
Tag.  We  had  hitherto  refused  to  work,  as  had  the 
remaining  Britishers,  but  in  order  to  keep  ourselves 
fit;  we  finally  volunteered  to  carry  the  noon  ration 
of  soup  out  to  the  Russians  who  worked  on  the  moor. 
Our  job  consisted  of  carrying  an  immense  can  of 
soup,  swung  high  on  a  pole  from  our  shoulders,  out 
to  the  workers,  under  guard  of  course.  Starting  at 
eleven  each  day  and,  by  permission  of  the  guard,  oc- 
casionally resting,  we  were  usually  back  by  one 
o'clock.  Each  day  we  saved  a  portion  of  our  food. 
We  wanted  twenty  days'  rations  each,  estimating 
that  it  would  take  us  that  long  to  walk  to  Holland. 

159 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

We  specialised  on  concentrated  foods  from  our  par- 
cels— biscuits,  tinned  meats,  and  so  on.  We  had 
our  cache  in  a  hole,  dug  under  cover  of  night,  under 
the  flooring  of  the  hut.  It  was  unsafe  to  keep  food 
on  our  bodies  or  near  our  beds,  as  the  guards  were  in 
the  habit  of  calling  the  Raus  at  all  hours,  and  some- 
times, several  times  during  the  night.  It  might  be 
at  twelve,  two  or  four,  although  it  was  never  alike 
on  any  two  nights  in  succession,  except  that  they  al- 
ways searched  us.  We  could  see  no  reason  for  this ; 
other  than  to  break  our  rest  and  perhaps  our  spirits, 
as  at  Giessen  Camp.  Certainly,  no  one  would  carry 
any  forbidden  thing  on  his  person,  under  such  sur- 
veillance, and  they  well  knew  we  could  hide  any- 
thing we  wished  in  other  places;  as  we  did. 

Each  Saturday  morning,  Simmons  and  I  paraded 
for  paint.  We  stood,  while  a  big  Russian,  with  a 
brush  and  bucket,  painted  large  red  and  green  circles 
on  our  breasts,  backs  and  knees.  Thin  stripes  were 
also  painted  down  the  seams  of  our  trousers  and 
sleeves  and  around  the  stiff  crowns  of  our  caps.  This 
was  to  mark  us  as  dangerous  characters.  As  such 
we  received  more  of  the  unwelcome  Raus  attentions 

160 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


than  the  others  and  were  the  more  wary  in  conse- 
quence. 

We  were  busy  opening  our  mail  on  one  of  those 
rare  occasions,  when  Simmons  gave  a  startled  excla- 
mation. I  looked  up  and  saw  him  gazing  curiously 
at  a  small  cheese  which  he  turned  slowly  around  in 
his  hand.  As  I  stepped  to  his  side,  a  guard  came  in. 
He  hastily  shoved  the  cause  of  the  strange  behaviour 
into  his  pocket.  When  the  guard  had  gone ;  he  passed 
me  a  letter  to  read.  It  was  from  his  brother  in 
Canada.  "I  received  your  letter  all  right  and  am 
sending  you  a  special  brand  of  cheese,"  I  read — and 
understood. 

We  waited  on  tiptoe  until  night,  to  open  the 
cheese.  It  was  one  of  the  cream  cheeses,  so  popular 
in  Canada,  no  bigger  than  my  closed  hand.  We 
gingerly  unwrapped  the  tin  foil  and  broke  it  open. 
To  our  great  joy,  in  the  hollow  heart  of  it  there  was 
tucked  away  the  tiny  compass  Simonds  had  written 
for  from  Vehnmoor  just  before  our  second  escape. 
With  it  were  four  American  quarters. 

Not  anticipating  this  good  luck,  we  had  exercised 
our  ingenuity  to  construct  a  rude  compass  of  our  own 
out  of  a  safety-razor  blade  and  an  eyelet  from  my 

161 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

boot.  It  was  within  fifteen  to  twenty  degrees  of  the 
true  north.  In  addition  we  had  a  safety  lamp,  which 
one  of  the  guards  had  long  been  looking  for  under 
the  impression  that  he  had  lost  it. 

We  now  had  our  twenty  days'  rations  saved  up 
and  so  took  turns  sitting  up  at  night,  awaiting  our 
chance.  We  spent  two  months  in  this  watchful  wait- 
ing, watching  the  wire  and  the  sentries.  But  no 
opportunity  offered.  We  took  turn  about,  one  man 
on  watch  all  night  long,  every  night.  He  could  not 
seem  to  watch  but  must  lie  in  his  place,  observing  all 
movement  in  the  hut  and  listening  carefully  for  any 
indicative  noises  outside.  Occasionally,  he  might 
step  outside  and  ostentatiously  walk  about  as  though 
sleepless,  and,  if  spoken  to,  say  that  he  was  not  well. 

But  always  there  were  the  shining  eyes  of  the 
watching  dogs,  growling,  if  one  came  too  near,  and 
outside  the  stodgy  sentries;  and  above  all,  much 
light. 

So  we  determined  to  volunteer  for  work,  figuring 
that  they  were  so  short  of  men  that  they  would  not 
lightly  refuse  us.  It  so  happened  that  ten  men  were 
asked  for  that  Saturday  to  hoe  turnips  on  a  near-by 
farm.  The  pay  was  thirty  pfennigs — or  six  cents — 

162 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


a  day.  We  volunteered  and  were  accepted  without 
cavil.  They  thought  our  spirit  gone  and  that  we 
had  accepted  the  inevitable.  We  reasoned  that  if 
we  worked  hard  while  we  studied  the  lie  of  the  land 
we  might  be  asked  for  again,  could  go  prepared,  and 
make  a  break  for  it. 

And  so  it  fell  out.  We  worked  hard  all  that  day, 
at  the  same  time  impressing  the  topography  of  the 
country  upon  our  minds.  At  the  close  of  the  day  we 
were  taken  to  the  farm  for  our  supper  of  potatoes 
and  buttermilk  and  then  marched  off  to  the  laager, 
four  miles  distant.  On  the  following  Monday  we 
were  ordered  to  go  out  to  the  same  place.  Unfor- 
tunately we  could  not  take  our  store  of  food  as  its 
bulk  would  have  meant  our  detection.  In  addition 
to  the  equipment  already  mentioned  I  carried  two 
packages  of  tobacco,  a  shaving  brush  and  a  box  of 
matches.  Simmons  had  a  terrible  razor  which  would 
not  shave,  four  boxes  of  matches  and  a  small  piece 
of  soap.  These  were  all  our  worldly  possessions.  It 
will  be  seen  that,  true  to  our  British  tradition,  the 
shaving  outfit  constituted  the  most  formidable  part 
of  our  impedimenta. 

We  worked  all  day.  And  so  did  the  rain.  We 
163 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

knocked  off  for  supper  at  eight  o'clock.  The  three 
guards  escorted  us  to  the  farmhouse,  but  after  lock- 
ing the  front  door,  went  into  an  adjoining  room 
with  the  farmer  for  their  own  meal.  The  back  door 
was  forgotten.  We  were  famished,  so  fell  to  on  the 
supper  of  buttermilk  and  potatoes.  I  finished  first 
and  strolled  lazily  over  to  the  door.  Besides  Sim- 
mons, there  were  seven  Frenchmen  and  an  English- 
man, all  of  whom  were  still  at  table  and  none  of 
them  aware  of  our  plans.  I  carelessly  opened  the 
door  and  stood  on  the  sill  a  moment.  Still  pour- 
ing. "Come  here,  Simmons,  and  see  this.  We're 
going  to  get  wet  before  we  get  back."  Simmons 
shoved  his  chair  back  and  joined  me.  We  both 
stepped  outside  and  gently  shut  the  door. 

Once  more  we  were  on  our  way !  We  found  our- 
selves at  the  edge  of  the  village  in  which  the  farm- 
ers hereabouts  had  their  homes.  We  worked  our 
way  carefully  round  the  outskirts  and  made  for  a 
bit  of  a  wood  a  mile  and  a  half  away.  We  were  only 
half  way  to  our  objective  when  the  village  bells 
began  to  ring.  Once  more  the  hue  and  cry  was  on ! 

When  the  deep  baying  of  the  dogs  joined  in  we 
said  "Ataboy!"  cast  aside  all  concealment  and  began 

164 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


to  run  for  it.  We  reached  the  wood  safely  enough, 
but  it  turned  out  to  be  only  a  thin  fringe  of  trees, 
offering  no  concealment  whatever.  We  dashed 
through  them.  On  the  other  side  a  village  opened 
up.  Back  to  the  wedge  of  wood  we  went.  A  good- 
sized  ditch  with  a  foot  or  so  of  water  in  it  ran  along 
the  edge  of  the  wood.  Its  sides  were  covered  with 
heather,  which  drooped  far  down  into  the  water. 
We  flung  ourselves  into  it,  after  first  shoving  the  tin 
box  containing  our  precious  matches  into  the  heather 
above.  Pitch  darkness  would  not  come  until  ten 
o'clock.  During  the  intervening  two  hours  we  lay 
on  our  backs  in  the  water  with  only  the  smallest  pos- 
sible portion  of  our  faces  projecting.  Once  the  guard 
jumped  over  the  ditch  less  than  four  yards  away. 
We  suffered  intensely,  for,  although  it  was  late 
August,  the  water  was  very  cold. 

When  things  had  become  quiet  and  daylight  had 
passed  we  withdrew  ourselves  from  the  muck,  and 
after  rubbing  our  numbed  bodies  to  restore  the  cir- 
culation, struck  out  across  the  country,  intent  on 
shoving  as  much  distance  as  possible  between  our- 
selves and  the  camp  before  another  day  rolled  round. 
We  knew  that  the  alarm  would  be  out  and  the  whole 

165 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

country  roused,  with  every  man's  hand  against  us. 
We  were  getting  used  to  that.  I,  for  one,  had  de- 
termined not  to  be  taken  alive  this  time.  But  I  cer- 
tainly did  not  want  to  be  put  to  the  test.  So  we 
plowed  our  way  through  oat  and  rye  fields  and  over 
and  through  ditches — many  of  them.  Once  we 
stripped  our  soggy  clothes  off  to  swim  a  river  that 
faced  us.  In  no  place  did  the  water  come  above  our 
knees;  but  what  it  lacked  in  depth,  it  made  up  for 
in  coldness.  We  saw  none  of  the  humour  in  that, 
so  we  cursed  it  and  stumbled  on,  two  very  tired  men. 
We  pulled  handfuls  of  oats  and  chewed  dryly  on 
them  as  we  plunged  up  to  our  waists  through  the 
crops.  We  reckoned  that  we  had  made  thirty  miles 
by  morning  and  apparently  had  outdistanced  our 
pursuers. 

One  night  early  in  our  pilgrimage,  we  espied  some 
cows  in  a  field.  Simmons  had  been  a  farmer  in 
Canada  and  so  was  our  agricultural  and  stock  au- 
thority here.  He  plunged  through  the  hedge  to  see 
if  he  could  not  capture  a  hat  full  of  milk  whilst  I 
stood  guard  outside.  I  stepped  into  the  shadow  of 
some  trees,  and  occasionally  I  could  hear  a  guarded  • 

166 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


"Soo — Cow!"  footsteps — and  then  as  like  as  not,  a 
muffled  curse.  I  smiled. 

Two  figures  came  hurriedly  down  the  road.  I 
pressed  back  against  the  bole  of  the  tree,  holding 
my  breath.  It  was  fairly  light  on  the  road  and  to 
my  amazement  I  saw  two  men  who  wore  French  uni- 
forms. Also  they  had  heavy  packs  on  their  back. 
That  last  meant  but  one  thing — food. 

I  rose  to  my  feet:    "Kamerad!" 

One  of  them  stopped  short.  The  other  pressed  on. 
He  muttered  something  under  his  breath  and  the 
other  broke  into  a  trot  to  catch  up. 

I  edged  along,  trying  desperately  to  be  friendly. 
That  made  them  the  more  timid.  They  would  have 
none  of  me.  No  further  word  was  exchanged  just 
then  except  for  a  repetition  of  my  "Kamerad." 

I  whistled  softly  to  Simmons.  That  alarmed 
them  the  more.  They  lengthened  their  stride.  So 
did  I  mine. 

One  said  something  I  could  not  catch.  They  half 
halted  and  made  a  brave  attempt  to  pose  as  Ger- 
mans, to  judge  by  their  guttural  talk  and  brassy 
front. 

I  could  not  explain,  although  I  tried  in  the  half 
167 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

light  to  show  my  friendliness,  and  Simmons,  now  a 
few  rods  away,  did  likewise.  I  endeavoured  to  ad- 
dress them  in  French — and  could  not.  I  tried 
German.  That  was  worse  and  the  final  result — 
chaos. 

All  I  could  think  of  was  "Kamerad."  I  kept  on 
like  a  parrot,  foolishly  repeating  it. 

All  this  took  but  a  moment  and  then  they  were 
gone  and  we  after  them. 

So  there  were  they,  walking  hurriedly,  fearful  of 
us  for  Germans  no  doubt  and  casting  uneasy  glances 
back.  I  followed  slowly,  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
to  do,  my  eyes  glued  on  the  inviting  squareness  of 
their  heavy  packs.  Simmons  jogged  behind,  en- 
deavouring to  catch  up.  The  moon  laughed  at  all 
four  of  us. 

"Come  on,"  I  said.  "They're  Frenchmen.  We'll 
follow  them.  They  have  two  packs  on  their  backs ! 
Grub !  And  maybe  we  can  bum  them  for  a  bit." 

Simmons  needed  no  second  invitation  but  set  out 
as  eagerly  as  I  in  cautious  pursuit;  so  fearful  were 
we  of  alarming  our  quarry.  Our  eyes  were  glued 
on  their  packs. 

Just  then  the  road  opened  up  into  a  broad  ex- 
168 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


panse  of  heather.  And  there  we  lost  them.  We 
beat  about  in  the  heather  for  a  long  time,  and  called 
loudly,  but  without  avail.  They  were  no  doubt  ly- 
ing down,  hiding. 

We  found  some  potatoes  in  a  field  that  night, 
dug  them  up  with  our  bare  hands  and  ate  them  raw. 
We  were  very  sad  when  we  thought  of  those  packs. 

It  was,  I  remember,  on  the  day  following  that 
we  saw  some  of  the  lighter  side  of  German  life. 
The  woods  thereabouts  were  cut  up  into  big  blocks, 
as  city  streets  are.  We  were  laying  to  in  one  of 
them,  thankful  for  the  thickness  of  our  shelter 
when  we  heard  laughing  voices  and  then  a  gust  of 
laughter  as  a  flying  group  of  girls  and  boys  romped 
past.  They  played  about  for  half  an  hour,  causing 
us  great  alarm  by  their  youthful  fondness  for  sudden 
excursions  into  unlikely  spots,  after  nothing  in  par- 
ticular. The  oldest  of  the  group,  a  sizable  boy  of 
seventeen  or  thereabouts  and  a  pretty  girl  of  near 
that  age,  hung  back  long  after  the  younger  children 
had  passed  on.  We  had  little  to  fear  from  them. 
They  were  quite  evidently  engrossed  in  one  another. 
He  argued  earnestly,  while  she  listened  with  a  half- 
smile.  Once,  he  made  as  if  to  take  her  hand  but  she 

169 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

drew  back  and  stiffened.  He  ignored  the  rebuff. 
A  moment  afterward  he  said  something  that  pleased 
her  so  well  that  the  last  we  saw  of  them  his  arm 
was  about  her  waist  as  they  went  down  the  path 
together. 

Parniewinkel  lay  forty  to  fifty  miles  northeast  of 
Bremen,  which  in  turn  was  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  the  Holland  border.  We  reckoned  on 
having  to  walk  double  that  in  covering  the  stretch, 
and  figured  on  twenty-one  days  for  the  trip. 

My  diary  for  that  day,  August  22,  1916,  reads: 
"Still  raining.  Soaked  and  cold.  Breakfast,  dinner 
and  supper:  turnips  and  oats."  The  night  was  a 
repetition  of  the  preceding  one,  and  made  worse  by 
the  number  of  small  swamps  we  had  to  struggle 
through.  The  next  day's  diary  reads :  "Rain  stopped 
and  not  so  cold.  Fair  cover;  still  soaked  but  con- 
fident." 

We  had  our  first  narrow  escape  that  day.  We 
were  lying  in  the  corner  of  a  hedge.  It  was  so  misty 
as  to  give  almost  the  effect  of  night,  but  so  long 
past  day  as  to  make  travelling  unduly  dangerous. 
When  the  mist  lifted  we  found  ourselves  within 
fifty  yards  of  a  thickly  populated  village  with  just 

170 


SALIENT   DETAILS    OF   THE    THIRD   ESCAPE. 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


a  narrow  strip  of  field  between.  We  could  hear  all 
the  early  morning  bustle  of  any  village,  the  world 
over.  This  was  about  three  o'clock.  An  old  man 
followed  by  a  dog  made  straight  for  us.  I  had  just 
come  off  the  watch,  which  we  took  turn  about.  Sim- 
mons whistled  cautiously  to  me,  the  very  sound  a 
warning  to  be  quiet. 

I  looked  up.  The  old  man  wandered  along  the 
hedge  and  stood  over  him  for  several  minutes. 

It  was  very  trying  but  he  lay  motionless,  for  fear 
of  the  dog.  A  blow  would  have  sufficed  for  the  old 
man.  The  latter  remained  so  for  a  couple  of  min- 
utes, standing  over  him,  busy. 

The  meals  for  that  day  were  peas  and  oats.  It 
was  a  slow  way  of  making  a  meal.  We  liked  the 
oats  the  best  and  pulled  some  whenever  we  came  to 
them,  if  our  pockets  were  not  already  full,  so  that 
they  should  always  be  so.  We  ate  them  as  we  went, 
from  the  cupped  hand,  spilling  some  and  spitting 
out  the  husks  of  the  others  which  sometimes  stuck  in 
our  throats,  making  them  very  raw. 

For  August  twenty-fourth  the  diary  reads :  "Very 
hard  night.  Crossed  about  five  kilometres  of  swamps 
and  numerous  canals.  Bad  accident.  Clothes  went 

171 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

to  the  bottom,  but  recovered.  We  are  soaked,  as 
usual,  and  only  made  about  eleven  kilometres.  Are 
outside  town  of  Bremen.  Cover  very  poor.  Meals 
for  the  day:  Nix.  Still  confident."  The  cover 
ranked  before  the  food  as  an  item  of  interest  to  us. 
Knowing  the  general  direction  of  Bremen  from  the 
camp,  and  that  it  was  much  the  largest  town  in  the 
vicinity,  we  experienced  no  difficulty  in  locating  it 
by  the  reflection  of  its  lights  against  the  sky. 

"August  twenty-fifth :  More  rain  and  cold.  Hid- 
ing on  the  bank  of  the  Weser.  Better  going  last 
night.  Going  to  look  for  boat  to-night.  River  two 
hundred  yards  broad.  Socks  played  out.  Made 
pair  out  of  a  shirt.  Met  a  cow.  Meals  for  day: 
turnips,  carrots  and  milk." 

August  26th:  More  rain.  Found  boat  and 
crossed  river.  Hedges  grown  so  close  and  so  many 
of  them,  we  have  to  go  around  them.  Takes  a  lot 
of  time.  Otherwise  going  good.  Meals  for  the 
day:  turnip,  peas  and  oats.  Met  another  cow. 
Frisked  her.  Cover  none  too  good.  Trying  to  dry 
our  clothes  in  sun.  More  confident."  We  always 
became  more  confident  at  the  slightest  semblance  of 
warmth. 

172 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


The  socks  we  made  out  of  a  shirt  which  came  from 
the  clothes-line  of  some  haus-frau.  We  made 
"dutch"  socks  in  Western  fashion  by  cutting  out 
large  diamond  shaped  pieces  of  the  cloth,  which 
when  the  foot  was  placed  on  it,  folded  up  nicely  into 
a  sock  of  a  kind. 

The  cow,  or  rather,  her  milk,  was  the  greatest 
treat  of  all. 

It  required  some  searching  before  we  found  a  boat. 
We  finally  discovered  a  boat  house  which  we  broke 
into  and  by  great  good  luck  found  inside  it  a  boat 
which  answered  our  purpose.  Our  chief  concern  was 
lest  the  owners  might  raise  a  hue  and  cry  against 
the  theft.  However,  when  we  reached  the  further 
shore  we  gave  tLe  boat  a  good  push  out  into  the 
stream  so  that  if  they  attempted  to  follow  our  trail 
they  might  find  the  boat  a  long  ways  down  stream. 

"August  twenty-seventh:  Rain  left  off.  Try- 
ing to  dry  ourselves  in  sun.  Had  a  hard  night 
keeping  clear  of  town.  Good  cover  in  a  wood. 
Meals:  turnips  and  another  obliging  cow.  Feet 
pretty  sore.  No  socks.  Still  in  the  best  otherwise." 

The  town  in  question  was  the  second  one  we 
passed  after  leaving  Bremen.  We  saw  the  reflec- 

173 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

tion  of  its  lights  in  the  sky  and  thought  that  we 
should  easily  miss  it.  But  suddenly  from  some  high 
ground  we  found  ourselves  working  directly  down 
on  the  streets  so  close  below  us  that  we  could  dis- 
cern people  going  to  and  fro.  We  turned  and  fled. 

Swinging  well  round  to  the  south  we  thought  at 
last  to  clear  the  town  easily,  instead  of  which  we 
again  came  up  against  it,  in  the  outskirts  this  time. 
And  we  repeated  that  disheartening  performance  a 
couple  of  times  before  we  cleared  the  obstacle  and 
once  more  swung  on  our  way. 

It  was  such  occurrences  as  this  that  disheartened 
us  more  than  anything  else,  even  the  great  hard- 
ships. To  labor  and  travail,  to  do  the  seemingly 
impossible,  night  after  night  and  then  in  the  snap 
of  a  finger  to  find  all  our  pains,  all  our  agony  gone 
for  nothing,  reacted  on  us  terribly  at  times. 

On  the  following  morning  we  met  with  our  secont! 
narrow  escape,  under  much  the  same  circumstances 
as  the  first.  We  had  crawled  into  a  hedge  toward 
the  heel  of  the  night,  and  rather  earlier  than  usual 
on  account  of  a  thick  mist  which  prevented  us  from 
holding  to  our  course.  When  it  lifted  we  made  out 
the  slope  of  a  house  roof  shoving  itself  out  of  the 

174 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


grey  fog  directly  in  front  of  us.  Our  hedge  divided 
two  fields,  in  both  of  which  labourers  were  already 
cutting  the  crops.  In  this  hedge,  on  each  side  of  us, 
were  gateways  so  close  together  that  when,  as  occa- 
sionally happened,  people  passed  through  one,  we 
were  forced  to  crawl  up  to  the  other  to  avoid  detec- 
tion. We  had  done  so  again  when,  without  warn- 
ing, a  drover  came  plodding  up  behind  his  sheep. 
We  had  no  time  in  which  to  go  back  up  the  hedge. 
The  sheep  crowded  from  the  rear  and  overflowed  at 
the  narrow  gateway  into  the  hedge  where  we  lay  and 
so  ran  over  our  bodies.  We  remained  quiet,  thinking 
he  would  pass  on;  but  what  with  the  frightened 
actions  of  his  sheep  and  the  yelping  of  the  dog  his 
attention  was  inevitably  attracted  to  the  spot  where 
we  lay.  He  came  over,  looked  down  at  us,  but  said 
nothing  and  stalked  on.  We  were  uncertain  as  to 
whether  he  had  seen  us  or  not.  Numerous  incidents 
of  a  similar  nature  had  made  us  overconfident.  We 
had  previously  escaped  detection  in  some  very  tight 
corners  by  simply  lying  quiet.  Casual  travelers  had 
all  but  walked  on  us  upon  several  occasions,  and  at 
night  we  ourselves  passed  many  people  and  thought 
nothing  of  it. 

175 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

A  moment  later  the  shepherd  walked  off  directly 
toward  the  labourers,  glancing  back  over  his  shoulder 
at  us  as  he  did  so.  We  struck  out  at  once,  before 
the  crowd  could  gather.  We  had,  at  the  beginning 
of  this,  our  third  escape,  agreed  not  to  be  taken  alive 
to  go  through  a  repetition  of  the  torture  of  mind  and 
body  which  we  had  already  undergone,  and,  perhaps 
for  this  time,  worse.  And  it  was  understood  that  if 
one  played  out  the  other  should  carry  on.  Each  of 
us  had  a  stout  club  and  could  have  made  a  tidy 
fight. 

Concealment  was  useless  and,  furthermore,  im- 
possible. We  passed  close  by  a  group  of  the  harvest- 
ers and  headed  for  a  wood  that  lay  on  the  other  side 
of  them.  They  could  not  mistake  either  the  vermil- 
ion circles  on  our  khaki  tunics,  faded  though  they 
were,  nor  our  wild  and  dilapidated  appearance,  which 
was  not  made  more  reassuring  by  the  clubs  we  car- 
ried. Glancing  back,  we  saw  them  gathering  hur- 
riedly in  little  knots. 

We  reached  the  wood,  flung  ourselves  down  and 
watched  them  until  dark,  during  which  time  they 
made  no  attempt  to  follow  us.  Nor  did  we  see  any 

176 


THE  THIRD  ESCAPE 


sign  of  other  pursuers,  though  we  kept  on  the  qui  vive 
all  night,  as  we  trudged  through  the  interminable 
fields,  forcing  our  way  through  tight  hedges  and 
plunging  waist  deep  into  the  water  of  small  canals. 


177 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  WOOD 

Weather  Bad  but  Hopes  High — Primitive  Dressmaking — 
The  Woman  at  the  Farm — The  Zeppelin — The  Fight  in 
the  Wood. 

THE  only  roads  we  habitually  used  were  side  ones, 
and  especially  did  we  avoid  any  with  telegraph 
wires  which  might  be  used  against  us.  It  was  a  flat 
and  swampy  country,  full  of  mist,  and  the  nights 
were  few  in  which  it  did  not  rain.  And  we  were  al- 
ways very  wet  and  very  cold.  The  latter  was  worse 
than  the  lack  of  food.  Sometimes  we  struggled  for 
hours  at  a  time,  knee-deep  in  desolate  stretches  of 
mist-covered  morasses  which  gave  no  promise  of 
firm  footing  but  which  often  dropped  us  in  to  the 
waist  instead.  In  addition,  the  country  was  cut  up 
by  numerous  small  ditches,  six  to  eight  feet  wide, 
which  along  toward  morning  presented  so  much  of 
an  effort  in  the  jumping  that  we  usually  plunged 
into  the  water  by  preference.  Our  feet  were  adding 

178 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  WOOD 

to  our  misery  by  this  time.  On  one  occasion,  as  we 
dragged  ourselves  out  of  the  water,  two  dogs  came 
rushing  at  us  and  then  followed,  yelping.  It  was 
nearly  daylight  and  a  woman  came  down  to  see 
what  was  going  on.  We  remained  motionless  near 
a  hedge.  She  failed  to  see  us,  which  was  perhaps 
good  luck  for  both  her  and  us. 

The  diary  for  that  period  reads:  "August  28th: 
Rain  worse  than  ever.  Not  a  piece  of  our  clothes 
dry  and  too  much  water  to  lie  down.  Good  going 
last  night.  Cover  in  a  wood  outside  village.  Good. 
Meals:  Nix.  Ought  to  reach  the  Hustre  river  to- 
night. In  good  spirits." 

"August  igth:  Rain  stopped  and  a  bit  of  sun 
came  out.  Feeling  much  more  cheerful.  Just  had 
a  shave  and  clean-up.  Going  last  night  very  bad. 
Swamps  and  canals.  Had  to  leave  our  course.  Feet 
feeling  better.  Meals  for  the  day:  turnips,  peas 
and  green  apples.  Did  not  reach  the  river.  All's 
well.  No  complaints."  That  shave  was  a  terrible 
torture. 

"August  thirtieth:  Rain,  thunder  and  lightning 
most  of  last  night.  Got  a  bit  of  shelter  in  a  cow- 
shed in  a  field.  We  are  wet  and  cold  as  usual,  with 

179 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

no  sun  to  dry.  Fair  cover  in  a  small  wood.  Going 
good  last  night.  Haven't  struck  the  Hustre  yet. 
Meals :  green  apples  and  brambles.  Feet  pretty  sore. 
Made  a  needle  out  of  wood  and  did  a  bit  of  sew- 
ing. Best  of  health." 

We  had  been  ploughing  through  the  mist,  confused 
by  it  and  the  numerous  hedges,  when  at  the  side  of 
a  small  field  we  had  run  into  this  cowshed,  a  tumble- 
down affair  of  sods,  caved  in  at  the  sides  and  partly 
covered  by  a  thatched  roof.  We  built  up  the  side 
from  which  the  wind  came  the  worst,  hung  a  rotting 
canvas  we  found  at  the  other  end  and  then  snuggled 
up  together  to  exchange  warmth. 

The  mist  had  scarcely  lifted  when  we  heard  a 
slight  noise.  We  looked  up.  A  woman  was  at  the 
entrance  to  our  hovel,  looking  down  full  at  us.  She 
turned  and  walked  away.  We  rose,  still  dazed  with 
sleep,  and  found  that  we  were  quite  close  to  a  farm- 
house which  owing  to  the  mist  we  had  failed  to  ob- 
serve before,  and  from  which  our  visitor  had  evi- 
dently observed  the  result  of  our  building  operations. 
"She  saw  us,"  I  said,  and  we  regretted  not  having 
seized  her.  She  appeared  to  be  signalling. 

A  good-sized  wood  lay  well  up  ahead.  "Come 
180 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  WOOD 

on,"  I  said.  "Let's  beat  it.  We  can  handle  a  few 
of  'em  better  than  the  whole  mob."  We  could  see 
the  farm  labourers  gathering  in  a  knot.  The  rain 
came  on  just  then  and  perhaps  assisted  in  dampening 
their  ardour.  At  any  rate  they  did  not  follow  us  into 
the  wood.  We  spent  rather  an  uneasy  time  though, 
when,  late  that  day,  some  men  approached  our 
hiding  place  in  a  clump  of  bushes  and  for  half  an 
hour  shot  their  fowling  pieces  off  all  around  where 
we  lay. 

They  did  not  seem  to  be  after  us ;  more  likely  they 
were  hunters.  The  same  thing  had  happened  in  a 
lesser  degree  several  times  before.  None  the  less  it 
was  very  uncomfortable  to  have  the  buckshot  rat- 
tling all  around  us  in  the  bushes  where  we  lay  and  we 
felt  much  better  when  they  had  gone. 

As  for  the  wooden  needle:  That  was  of  course 
the  result  of  our  necessity.  It  was  a  long  thorn — 
first,  a  punch  in  the  cloth  and  like  as  not  a  stab  in 
the  finger  in  the  bargain,  then  a  withdrawal  of  the 
crude  needle  and  a  careful  threading  of  the  hole 
with  our  coarse  string,  after  the  fashion  of  a  clumsy 

shoemaker.     Some  sewing !     Some  needlewoman ! 

181 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

The  green  apples  and  the  berries  which  we  got 
here  proved  a  most  welcome  change  in  our  diet. 

"August  thirty-first:  Not  much  rain  but  very 
cold.  Too  dark  to  travel  last  night.  No  stars  out 
to  go  by.  Crossed  the  river  this  morning,  at  last. 
Good  cover  in  bushes.  Feet  are  badly  peeled.  Hope 
for  better  luck  to-night.  Meals :  apples  and  turnips. 
Cold  and  rain  are  putting  us  in  bad  state.  But  still 
confident."  We  were  daily  growing  weaker  and 
prayed  only  that  our  strength  would  last  to  put  us 
over  the  border. 

"September  first :  No  rain  and  a  little  sun.  Feel- 
ing much  better.  Going  last  night  much  the  best  we 
have  had.  Good  cover  in  a  thicket.  Will  soon  be 
going  over  the  same  country  we  did  last  time  we 
escaped.  Meals:  peas  and  beans.  Still  in  good 
health." 

"September  second:  No  rain,  but  cold  out  of 
the  sun.  Pretty  fair  going  last  night.  Feet  still 
sore.  Cover  on  straw  stack  in  middle  of  field. 
Warmer  than  the  woods.  Zeppelin  just  passed 
oveihead  going  north.  Meals:  turnips,  carrots,  ap- 
ples and  peas." 

"September  third:  Fine  weather.  Good  going 
182 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  WOOD 

last  night.  Feet  still  pretty  bad.  Had  to  cut  my 
boots.  Fine  cover  in  the  wood.  Meals:  baked  po- 
tatoes. Feel  fuller."  This  was  our  first  cooked 
meal  and  the  pleasure  it  gave  us  was  beyond  all 
words.  We  lit  it  under  cover  of  night  so  that  by 
the  time  day  had  come  there  was  nothing  but  glowing 
coals  in  which  the  potatoes  roasted  while  we  slept. 

My  feet  were  badly  swollen  by  this  time  so  that 
I  was  faint  with  the  pain  of  them. 

The  Zeppelin,  strange  though  it  was  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, was  only  a  small  incident  in  many  others 
of  vaster  importance  which  were  happening  daily  to 
us  but  it  was  flying  so  low  that  we  deemed  it  best 
not  to  move  until  it  had  passed.  We  wondered  if 
it  were  going  to  England,  and  envied  it. 

"September  fourth :  More  rain.  Hard  going  half 
the  night.  Crossed  large  peat  bog  and  wet  to  the 
waist.  Very  cold.  Cover  in  wood.  None  too 
good.  Got  scared  out  of  our  first  cover.  Meals: 
Milk,  apples  and  peas.  Feet  not  so  sore.  Still  rain- 
ing and  cold.  We  should  soon  be  at  the  River  Ems." 

On  the  evening  of  this  day  we  walked  out  to  the 
edge  of  the  wood  we  were  in  and  stood  there  sizing 
up  the  near-by  village.  It  was  about  seven  o'clock 

183 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

and  wanted  about  an  hour  to  darkness  ^md  our  usual 
time  for  hitting  the  trail.  Without  any  warning,  a 
burly  farmer  confronted  us.  He  was  as  badly  start- 
led as  we  were.  Our  remnants  of  painted  uniforms 
and  our  ragged,  soaked  and  generally  filthy  condi- 
tion no  doubt  added  to  our  terrible  appearance.  We 
had  long  since  lost  our  caps  and  our  hair  was  matted 
liks  a  dog's.  The  German  was  armed  with  a  double- 
barreled  shotgun,  and  at  his  heels  a  powerful-look- 
ing dog  showed  his  teeth  to  us,  so  that  I  marked 
the  red  of  his  tongue.  If  he  raised  the  alarm  we 
were  done  for.  We  still  had  our  cudgels. 

I  do  not  know  whose  was  the  offensive.  But  I 
do  know  that  the  three  of  us  came  together  with 
one  accord  in  a  wild  and  terrible  medley  of  oaths 
in  two  languages  and  of  murderous  blows  that  beat 
like  flails  at  the  threshing.  Simmons  and  I  strug- 
gled for  the  gun  which  he  tried  so  hard  to  turn  on 
us,  the  dog  meanwhile  sinking  its  teeth  deep  in  our 
unprotected  legs  and  leaping  vainly  at  our  throats; 
while  we  felt  with  clutching  fingers  for  his  master's, 
intent  only  that  he  should  not  shout. 

In  those  mad  moments  there  sped  through  our 
brains  the  reel  of  that  whole  horrid  film  of  fifteen 

184 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  WOOD 

months'  torture  of  mind  and  body;  the  pale,  blood- 
covered  faces  of  our  murdered  comrades  of  the  regi- 
ment, the  cries  of  the  patient  Russians  behind  the 
trees,  and  our  own  slow  and  deadly  starvation  and 
planned  mistreatment.  All  these,  and  God  only 
knows  what  else,  should  be  ours  again  if  we  should 
be  recaptured. 

We  were  near  to  Holland.  In  fancy  and  by  con- 
trast we  saw  the  fair  English  fields  and  the  rolling 
beauty  that  is  Ontario's;  we  heard  the  good  English 
tongue  and  beheld  the  dear  faces  of  our  own  folk. 
We  bore  that  farmer  no  ill  will.  And  his  dog  was 
to  the  last  a  very  faithful  animal,  as  our  clothes  and 
limbs  bore  true  witness.  We  had  no  ropes.  And 
we  were  two  very  desperate  men,  badly  put  upon. 

We  dropped  his  gun  in  the  bushes,  together  with 
the  body  of  his  dog;  and  passed  on.  It  had  not 
been  fired  and  we  had  no  desire  to  have  the  charge 
of  carrying  firearms  added  to  the  others  against  us  if, 
in  spite  of  all,  we  should  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  be 
recaptured. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  LAST  LAP 

Crossing  the  River — The  Terrible  Swamp — Valuable  Ap- 
ples— Safe  Across  the  Border — Real  Walking  at  Last — 
Barbarous  Barbering. 

"September  fifth:  Stopped  raining  and  a  little 
warmer.  Got  our  clothes  dry  once  more.  Cover  in 
a  wood  outside  a  small  town.  Going  last  night  good, 
after  we  had  crossed  another  peat  bog.  Meals :  milk, 
baked  potatoes  and  apples.  Hope  to  reach  the  river 
to-night.  Bad  feet.  Best  of  health  otherwise." 

"September  sixth :  No  rain  and  warmer.  Heavy 
dew.  Fairly  good  going.  Best  of  cover.  Had  a 
fire.  Pretty  comfortable.  Milk,  potatoes,  apples." 

"September  seventh:  Still  fine  weather.  Very 
poor  cover  in  a  hedge.  Good  load  to  go  on.  Made 
pretty  good  time  last  night.  Feet  feeling  better. 
Running  out  of  tobacco.  Otherwise  in  the  best  and 
still  hope  the  same.  Meals :  potatoes  and  beets." 

We  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  discussing  ways 
186 


THE  LAST  LAP 


and  means  of  adding  to  our  stock  of  tobacco.  Any 
smoker  knows  what  it  is  to  want  the  weed.  Con- 
sider then  our  half  famished,  wet  and  utterly  weary 
condition.  It  was  a  real  necessity  to  us.  We  dis- 
cussed waiting  at  the  roadside  until  a  man  with  a 
pipe  appeared;  when  we  should  rob  him.  We  dis- 
missed that  as  too  hazardous.  It  would  be  necessary 
to  kill  him  and  that  seemed  a  bit  thick  for  a  pipe  of 
tobacco.  So  we  did  the  only  thing  that  was  left  to 
do — cut  down  our  already  scanty  rations  of  tobacco 
and  took  scrupulous  care  to  smoke  to  a  clean  ash 
every  vestige  of  each  heel  of  old  pipe,  but  in  spite 
of  that  our  supply  became  exhausted. 

"September  eighth:  Lovely  weather  to-day. 
Good  going  last  night  in  small  swamp.  Good  cover 
in  a  forest  on  the  banks  of  the  Ems.  We  will  try 
to  cross  to-night.  Meals:  potatoes  and  mangels. 
Our  final  try  for  liberty.  Feel  good  for  it." 

We  had  arrived  at  the  river  at  two  o'clock  that 
morning,  too  played  out  to  attempt  the  crossing  then. 
We  retraced  our  steps  to  a  potato  field,  dug  some 
of  the  tubers  and,  when  daylight  came,  lit  a  fire 
and  roasted  them.  We  were  in  a  dense  forest  of 
young  trees,  so  that  by  lighting  the  fire  before  the 

187 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

mist  lifted,  the  latter  hid  our  smoke.  We  remained 
unperceived,  though  we  could  hear  voices  and  foot- 
steps on  every  side. 

"September  ninth:  Swam  the  river  and  two 
canals.  Crossed  a  large  swamp.  No  rain  but  very 
cold.  Think  we  are  over  the  border.  Very  poor 
cover  in  a  hedge.  Wet  to  the  skin.  Clothes  got 
soaked  but  in  best  of  spirits  and  confident." 

We  went  down  to  survey  the  river  shortly  before 
dusk  and  found  it  both  broad  and  swift.  We  went 
back  again  and  tore  a  gate  from  its  hinges,  carried 
it  the  five  hundred  yards  down  to  the  river  and 
then  stripped  for  the  crossing.  The  gate  was  not  big 
enough  to  carry  us  but  answered  for  our  clothes. 
Simmons  swam  ahead,  guiding  it,  while  I  shoved 
from  behind.  We  made  the  crossing  without  mis- 
hap but  straightway  fell  into  one  of  the  worst  expe- 
riences of  the  entire  trip.  We  plunged  into  a  swamp 
which  took  us  five  hours  to  get  through.  There 
were  moments  when  we  all  but  gave  up  and  thought 
we  should  never  get  out.  At  times  we  sank  in  it  up 
to  our  waists,  particularly  after  leaping  at  the 
numerous  tufts  of  grass  which  seemed  to  promise  a 
footing  that  they  never  realised  and  which  some- 

188 


THE  LAST  LAP 


times  sent  us  in  it  to  the  armpits,  so  that  we  were 
sure  we  were  doomed  to  be  sucked  down  for  good  in 
the  filthy  mess. 

The  fearful  odour  that  our  plunging  around  stir- 
red up,  naturally  aided  our  nervous  imaginings  and 
it  was  undoubtedly  the  worst  trial  we  had  yet  met 
with  on  the  journey.  I  cannot  convey  the  black  de- 
spair which  took  possession  of  our  hearts  at  the  seem- 
ing hopelessness  of  all  our  efforts  to  find  firm  foot- 
ing or  a  break  in  the  landscape  which  might  indicate 
a  change  in  the  nature  of  the  country,  a  light,  a  voice, 
anything  that  would  help  to  lift  from  our  hearts  the 
feeling  of  utter  isolation  from  all  human  assistance 
and  the  seeming  certainty  that  a  few  bubbles  would 
be  the  only  indication  that  we  had  struggled  there. 
The  darkness  of  the  night  intensified  these  thoughts. 
The  rain  did  not  matter.  In  fact  it  helped;  for  we 
were  covered  with  the  worse  than  water  of  the 
morass. 

We  looked  at  one  another.  We  dared  not  speak. 
Anyhow,  to  do  so  was  not  our  custom  at  such  times 
as  these.  But  each  knew.  A  dull  anger  took  pos- 
session of  us  at  the  thought  of  so  inglorious  an  end 
after  all  that  we  had  suffered  to  attain  our  freedom. 

189 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

With  a  prayer  in  our  hearts  we  cast  ourselves  for- 
ward and  somehow,  sometime,  found  at  last  that  we 
were  safe  and  so  flung  ourselves  down  in  our  stink- 
ing clothes  to  lie  like  dogs  in  a  drunken  stupour  that 
recked  not  of  time  or  of  our  enemies. 

We  discovered  an  apple  orchard  here,  in  which  the 
fruit  was  ripe.  All  the  apples  we  had  had  up  to  date 
had  been  of  the  small  and  green  variety.  And  even 
they,  with  the  occasional  milk,  represented  our  all 
of  luxury,  so  that  these  seemed  indeed  the  food  of 
the  gods.  We  proceeded  to  fill  up  and  after  eating 
all  that  we  thought  we  could,  filled  our  pockets  until 
they  bulged,  and  started  off,  each  carrying  an  arm- 
ful of  the  fruit.  At  every  step  we  dropped  some. 
We  stopped  again  and  ate  our  surplus  to  make 
room.  We  refused  to  lose  any  of  them.  We  came 
to  a  river,  stripped,  tied  our  clothes  up  in  a  bundle 
and  proceeded  to  swim  across,  shoving  the  clothes 
ahead.  I  lost  control  of  mine  and  they  sank.  I 
dived  repeatedly  in  the  darkness  before  I  found 
them.  The  cargo  of  apples  in  the  pockets  made  a 
bad  matter  worse.  I  should  rather  have  drowned 
than  have  lost  my  apples.  The  possible  loss  of  the 
clothes  worried  us  very  little.  We  had  already  de- 

190 


THE  LAST  LAP 


cided  in  that  event  to  waylay  some  German  Michel 
rather  than  to  go  naked  into  Holland.  However, 
by  alternately  dragging  the  bundle  behind  and  swim- 
ming on  our  backs  with  it  held  high  on  the  chest  with 
one  hand,  we  made  the  crossing,  apples  and  all. 

We  were  sitting  in  the  shadow  preparing  to  dress 
and  wondering  whether  we  were  really  over  the  bor- 
der and  if  we  could  safely  walk  abroad,  when  we 
heard  men  walking  toward  us.  We  knew  them  to 
be  Germans  by  the  clank  of  the  hobnailed  boots 
which  all  our  guards  had  worn.  We  had  not  a  stitch 
on  and  our  hearts  were  in  our  mouths.  The  patrol 
of  six  men  stopped  within  five  yards  of  us  and  then 
passed  on  within  five  feet  and  did  not  see  us.  We 
dressed  quickly  and  went  on,  only  to  find  a  canal,  for 
which  we  had  to  strip  again. 

Arriving  at  the  other  side;  we  dressed  in  the 
shadow  of  the  bank,  crawled  to  the  top  and  plunged 
through  the  heather  on  to  a  road  which  we  had  al- 
most crossed,  when  there  came  a  cry  of  "Halt!" 
The  patrol  must  have  been  standing  in  the  trees 
where  we  had  broken  out  from  the  heather,  and 
very  quietly,  too,  for  we  had  lain  for  five  minutes 
to  make  certain  that  all  was  safe.  Evidently  we 

191 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

were  on  or  near  the  border  if  the  number  of  patrols 
was  any  indication.  We  were  not  certain  whether 
these  were  Hollanders  or  Germans.  We  made  one 
big  buck  jump.  "Fire,  Gridley,  when  ready!"  I 
left  the  entire  knee  of  one  trouser  leg  on  a  clutching 
thorn.  But  the  patrol  did  not  fire. 

And  then  another  canal.  "I'm  fed  up  with  swim- 
ming to-night." 

"So  am  I,"  agreed  Simmons.  "There  are  houses 
over  there.  There  must  be  a  bridge." 

We  slunk  along  the  bank  and  to  our  joy  found  a 
small  bridge.  We  dashed  across  it  and  debouched 
safely  into  a  tiny  village.  Here  we  saw  a  difference, 
especially  in  the  houses  and  the  roadway.  It  was 
in  the  very  atmosphere,  a  result  no  doubt  of  instincts 
made  keen  by  the  hunted  lives  we  had  led.  On 
either  side  the  fields  stretched  out,  criss-crossed  by  a 
perfect  network  of  small  canals  and  ditches,  which 
also  served  as  fences. 

We  knew  we  were  in  Holland. 

We  deemed  it  unwise  to  show  ourselves  as  yet, 
distrusting  the  sympathies  of  the  Hollanders  and 
fearful  that  they  might  give  us  up;  and  continued 
this  policy  until  the  next  day.  However,  we  took 

192 


PRIVATE  MERWIN  (  .  SIMMON-S  OF  THE  7TH  BATTALION 
1ST  DIVISION,  CANADIAN  EXPEDITIONARY  FORCE. 


THE  LAST  LAP 


a  chance  and  stuck  to  the  road,  a  treat,  indeed, 
to  feel  a  firm  footing  after  our  weeks  of  travelling 
across  country  fields.  This  enabled  us  to  shove 
thirty  miles  between  us  and  Germany  by  morning. 

It  was  not  quite  daylight  when  we  espied  a  cow 
in  a  field  at  the  roadside  and  gave  chase.  There 
was  no  other  food  in  sight,  so  when  our  quarry  threw 
up  its  tail  and  bounced  off;  we  set  out  grimly  to  run 
our  breakfast  down.  It  was  half  an  hour  later  that 
we  corralled  it  in  a  corner  between  two  broad  ditches 
and  were  already  licking  our  chops  in  anticipation; 
when  we  discovered  that  our  cow  was  only  a  big 
heifer.  Twenty-four  hours  earlier  it  would  have 
been  a  tragedy.  As  it  was,  we  only  laughed.  Such 
is  liberty. 

At  this  distance  from  the  border  we  felt  that  we 
were  safe  from  the  Germans  but  were  very  much 
afraid  that  we  might  be  interned.  So  we  holed  up 
in  a  farmhouse  which  had  been  partly  burned  down 
and  built  a  roaring  fire  out  of  the  remains  of  the 
charred  furniture,  placed  some  of  the  potatoes  that 
were  lying  about  in  the  fire,  made  a  rough  bed  and 
went  to  sleep.  Awakening  later  in  the  day,  we  raked 
the  blackened  potatoes  out  of  the  ashes  and  filled  up 

193 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

on  them.  We  were  a  fearful  team;  absolutely  filthy, 
uncombed,  unwashed,  unshaven,  and  with  the  Rus- 
sian's paint  still  thick  upon  us.  Afterward  we  went 
down  to  the  canal  and  endeavoured  to  knock  the 
worst  of  it  off.  All  danger  was  past  now.  We 
seemed  to  walk  on  air.  We  were  once  again  British 
soldiers.  And  so  fell  to  abuse  of  one  another,  find- 
ing fault  and  grousing;  as  all  good  British  soldiers 
do  when  they  are  well  off.  I  made  out  to  shave 
Simmons.  The  terrible  razor  had  never  been  sharp 
and  lately  had  rusted  from  its  travels.  Simmons 
swore  lustily  and  threatened  me,  ordering  me  at  the 
same  time  and  in  no  uncertain  terms ;  to  desist  from 
the  torture. 

"Well,  we  want  to  go  into  Holland  lookin'  re- 
spectable. What' 11  they  think  of  British  soldiers  if 
they  see  us?  Have  a  heart!"  I  expostulated. 

"Don't  give  a  damn!  I've  had  enough  for  being 
a  Canadian;  but  I  won't  stand  for  this."  I  left 
him  with  his  beard  still  on  in  patches  and  the  bare 
spots  bleeding  angrily.  As  I  had  already  committed 
myself,  I  had  to  bear  in  silence  his  purposely  clumsy 
handling  of  that  hack-saw.  It  was  terrible,  and  Sim- 
mons, the  scoundrel,  laughed  like  a  demon. 

194 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOLLAND  AT  LAST 

"No    Intern" — Real    Bread — Tipperary — A   Real    Time — 
The  Splendid  Hollanders — The  Hague. 

THE  diary  summarizes  the  later  events  of  that 
day: 

"September  tenth :  Fine  weather  and  in  Holland. 
All  our  troubles  are  over.  We  struck  a  small  town 
called  Alboom  where  the  people  did  everything  they 
could  for  us.  Plenty  of  food.  Slept  in  a  house !" 

A  man  smoking  a  big  pipe  and  wearing  baggy 
breeches  and  wooden  shoes  came  up  and  surveyed 
us  with  kindly  amusement,  as  Simmons  scraped  at 
me  with  infinite  gusto.  He  was  a  Hollander;  not 
a  "Dutchman."  We  soon  learned  that  the  latter 
was  a  term  of  contempt  applied  by  the  former  to 
the  Germans. 

I  asked  him  for  some  tobacco,  which  he  readily 
gave  to  us  from  a  capacious  pouch.  He  waved  his 
pipe  at  us  in  friendly  fashion  and  said  something 

195 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

which  we  took  to  be  a  question  as  to  our  identity. 

"English,"  we  said,  and  in  desperation  turned  to 
our  scanty  stock  of  French:  "Soldats;  prisomers." 

"Engelsch !"  he  boomed.  We  nodded.  He  simply 
threw  his  arms  round  first  one  and  then  the  other,  so 
that  I  wiped  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  out  of  my  eyes. 
He  lumbered  off  and  shortly  returned  with  a  counter- 
part of  himself.  He  talked  rapidly  to  his  compan- 
ion and  waved  his  pipe.  We  made  out  the  words 
"Duitsch,"  "Engelsch,"  and  enough  of  others  to 
know  that  he  was  telling  our  tale  as  he  imagined  it. 

Our  fears  coming  uppermost,  we  gave  voice  to 
them:  "Intern'?" 

"No  intern.  Engelsch."  The  other  took  up  the 
cry:  "Engelsch  goot!  Frient."  However  our  sus- 
picions would  not  down. 

The  first  man  pointed  out  to  the  canal  where  a 
barge  lay  and  made  us  understand  that  it  was  his. 
He  wanted  us  to  work  our  passage  on  it  down  the 
canal  with  him.  They  invited  us  by  signs  to  go  on 
board  the  barge  for  breakfast,  an  invitation  which 
we  joyfully  accepted.  We  rowed  out  to  the  barge 
and  sat  down  in  the  tiny  cabin.  The  meal  was  plain. 
On  the  centre  of  the  table  was  a  loaf  of  brown  bread, 

196 


HOLLAND  AT  LAST 


quite  good  enough  it  was  true,  but  so  reminiscent  of 
the  perennial  black  ration  of  the  Germans  that  my 
gorge  rose  at  the  sight.  Out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  I  saw  a  white  loaf  on  the  shelf,  the  first  in  fifteen 
months.  I  caught  Simmons  eyeing  it.  We  ex- 
changed guilty  looks  but  were  ashamed  to  ask  for  it. 
They  offered  us  the  brown  loaf  and  delicious  coffee. 
I  thought  perhaps  that  if  we  exhausted  the  brown 
loaf  the  other  might  be  forthcoming.  I  kicked 
Simmons  on  the  shins  and  fell  to  on  it,  and,  as  oppor- 
tunity offered,  thrust  pieces  in  the  pockets  of  my 
tunic  until,  to  our  relief,  they  brought  out  the  white 
bread,  which  we  devoured  to  the  last  crumb.  It 
was  very  good. 

We  filled  our  pipes  in  high  contentment  and  went 
ashore,  where  a  procession  of  enthusiastic  villagers 
waited  to  escort  us  to  the  village.  Men,  women  and 
children,  wooden  shoes  and  all,  there  were  four  hun- 
dred of  them.  The  men  all  shook  hands  and  pressed 
money  on  us.  The  women  cried  and  one  white- 
haired  old  lady  kissed  us  both.  The  quaint  little 
roly-poly  children  ran  at  our  sides,  a  half  dozen  of 
them  struggling  to  hold  our  fingers  in  their  chubby 
fists. 

197 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

The  procession  started  off,  the  burgomaster  lead- 
ing, the  two  sailors  and  ourselves  coming  next. 
Some  one  behind  dragged  out  a  mouth  organ  and 
struck  up  Tipperary,  and  men,  women  and  children 
all  joined  in.  It  was  glorious.  We  sang,  too,  in 
English,  and  they  in  their  tongue.  The  result  was 
so  ridiculous  a  medley  that  I  smiled  myself;  but  it 
made  no  difference.  The  spirit  was  there;  we  were 
happy. 

Arriving  at  the  village  the  burgomaster  took  us 
to  his  home  and  sat  us  down  to  a  steaming  breakfast, 
while  a  few  of  the  chosen  were  invited  in  to  watch 
us  polish  it  off.  The  crowd  remained  outside, 
choking  the  road.  Some  of  the  bolder  of  the  children 
crept  slyly  in  the  door,  others  peered  shyly  at  us 
from  the  crack  of  it.  And  one  little  chap,  braver 
than  his  comrades,  clumped  sturdily  up  to  my  knee, 
where  he  stood  clutching  it  in  round-eyed  wonder 
and  saying  never  a  word  for  the  rest  of  the  meal, 
envied  of  his  mates. 

Not  until  we  had  leaned  back,  not  contented,  but 
ashamed  to  ask  for  more,  did  our  hosts  give  vent  to 
the  curiosity  that  was  eating  into  their  vitals.  An 
interpreter  was  found  and  they  led  us  out  to  the 

198 


HOLLAND  AT  LAST 


road  so  that  all  might  hear.  The  crowd  flocked 
around  while  the  officials  questioned  us.  Many  were 
the  smothered  interjections  that  went  up  from  the 
men  and  exclamations  of  pity  from  the  women  as  our 
tale  unfolded.  And  the  warm  sympathy  of  their 
honest  faces  warmed  our  hearts  like  a  good  fire. 

We  started  off  on  our  triumphal  course  again. 
We  were  repeatedly  invited  into  houses  for  some- 
thing to  eat.  We  accepted  seven  such  breakfast  in- 
vitations during  the  next  two  and  a  half  hours  and 
stopped  only  out  of  shame.  We  were  still  hungry. 
Every  one  gave  us  cigars,  immense  things,  which 
projected  from  every  pocket  and  which  we  carried  in 
bundles  under  our  arms.  There  was  no  refusing 
them.  They  were  the  insignia  of  the  entente.  And 
the  coffee!  The  good,  honest,  Holland  coffee  with 
no  acorns  in  it!  I  doubt  if  our  starving  bodies 
could  have  carried  us  many  days  more  on  the  un- 
cooked roots  we  had  been  living  on.  The  motherly 
housewives,  in  their  Grecian-like  helmets  of  metal 
and  glass  that  fit  closely  over  their  smoothed  hair 
like  skull-caps,  bustled  merrily  about,  intent  only 
on  replenishing  our  plates  and  cups,  full  of  a  tear- 
ful sympathy  which  was  as  welcome  as  their  food. 

199 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Later  in  the  day  the  officials  took  us  to  the  police 

station  at  .     We  became  very  much  alarmed 

again.  They  read  our  thoughts  and  a  subdued  mur- 
mur of:  "No  intern,  no  intern,"  swelled  up.  The 
local  burgomaster  came  to  us.  His  first  words,  and 
in  good  English,  too,  were :  "Have  something  to  eat." 
We  did.  And  then  more  cigars.  The  police  were  a 
splendid  lot  of  men.  They  loaded  us  down  with 
gifts  and  asked  perfunctory  questions  for  their  rec- 
ords. One  of  them,  H.  Letema,  of ,  took  us  to 

his  home,  where  his  comely  wife  and  daughter  loaded 
the  table  with  good  things;  while  he  brought  out 
more  cigars.  He  showed  us  to  a  bed-room  before 
we  understood  where  he  was  taking  us.  We  re- 
fused, for  reasons  of  a  purely  personal  nature. 
"Nix,"  we  said,  and  when  he  would  not  accept  our 
refusal  we  tried  it  in  Niederlander.  "No,  no." 
Still  he  persisted,  and  his  good  wife  too.  So  we 
led  him  firmly  aside  and  showed  him  the  indescrib- 
ably verminous  condition  we  were  in.  That  con- 
vinced him.  They  appreciated  that  little  touch  and 
gave  us  a  deep  pile  of  blankets,  flung  down  on  three 
feet  of  sweet-smelling  straw  in  an  outhouse,  where 
we  slept  as  we  had  not  slept  for  many  months. 

200 


HOLLAND  AT  LAST 


In  the  morning  Letema  escorted  us  down  to  Aas- 
chen,  which  was  the  nearest  large  town.  A  Belgian 
and  a  Holland  lady,  hearing  of  the  escaped  English 
prisoners,  met  us  within  twenty  minutes  of  our  ar- 
rival, took  us  in  hand  and  loaded  us  down  with  kind- 
nesses. We  ate  only  five  full  sized  meals  that  day, 
not  counting  the  extras  we  absorbed  between  them. 
And  there  were  more  cigars.  The  raw  oats  and 
potatoes  seemed  a  long  way  off. 

Our  day  at  Aaschen  was  a  repetition  of  the  pre- 
vious one  at  Alboom  and  Borger,  but  on  a  grander 
scale.  The  ladies  took  us  down  to  Rotterdam  and 
did  not  leave  us  until  they  had  turned  us  over  to 
the  British  consul  there,  whose  name  I  have  forgot- 
ten but  who,  with  the  vice  consul,  Mr.  Mueller,  was 
very  kind  indeed;  in  fact,  all  whom  we  met,  irre- 
spective of  their  nationality,  age  or  sex  placed  us  un- 
der eternr}  obligations  to  them.  In  particular  Mr. 
Neilson,  the  rector  of  the  English  church  and  in 
charge  of  the  Sailors'  Institute  there,  seemed  to  live 
only  for  us. 

Mr.  Henken  at  the  American  consulate  was 
equally  kind.  They  lodged  us  at  the  Seaman's  Rest, 
took  our  painted  rags  away  and  clothed  us  in  blue 

201 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

"civvie"  suits  which  seemed  to  us  the  height  of  sinful 
luxury.  We  were  shaved,  clean  and  could  eat  every- 
thing in  sight,  at  any  time  of  the  day  or  night.  And 
did  so.  The  meals  we  used  to  shift!  We  were 
very  glad  to  get  rid  of  our  waterproof  suits — for 
that  is  what  they  had  become,  from  the  paint. 

Mr.  Neilson  took  us  sight  seeing  every  day.  Once 
we  went  out  to  Mr.  Carnegie's  Peace  Palace  which 
had  been  closed  on  account  of  the  war  but  which  we 
were  permitted  to  inspect.  I  had  not  thought  such 
buildings  were  done,  except  in  dreams.  It  made  our 
own  bitter  past  seem  unreal.  The  Italian  room,  in 
particular,  seemed  like  a  delicate  canvas  in  marble 
and  done  in  a  fashion  the  memory  of  which  gripped 
me  for  days  and  still  haunts  me.  We  spent  days 
thus;  supremely  happy. 

We  were  joined  here  by  Jerry  Burke  of  the  8th 
Battalion  of  Winnipeg.  He  was  a  nephew  of  Sir 
Sam  Hughes,  the  then  Canadian  Minister  of  Mili- 
tia and  had  just  made  his  escape  from  some  other 
camp. 

We  were  to  have  left  on  the  fifth  with  a  fleet  of 
boats  which  sailed  then.  By  the  time  we  had  got  on 
board,  however,  the  sailors  from  the  first  boat  were 

202 


HOLLAND  AT  LAST 


returning.  They  had  been  torpedoed.  And  that 
stopped  us. 

We  got  away  on  the  S.  S.  Grenadier  on  the  six- 
teenth, and  after  hugging  the  length  of  the  Eng- 
lish Coast,  arrived  safely  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne 
on  the  eighteenth. 

Here  our  troubles  began ! 


203 


CHAPTER  XX 

"IT'S  A  WAY  THEY  HAVE  IN  THE  ARMY" 

Red  Tape  in  the  Army— A  Disgruntled  Soldier— "Old  Sol- 
dier, Old  Fox" — A  Touch  for  Twenty  Quid — Augen 
Rechts  at  Seaford — Canada! 

MY  family  in  Canada  have  since  remarked  that 
although  my  letters  had  invariably  been  cheerful 
throughout  my  imprisonment,  from  the  time  I  set 
foot  on  English  soil  they  reflected  the  deepest 
despondency.  That  could  be  explained  in  part  by 
the  fact  that  uncheerful  letters  could  not  pass  the 
German  but  could  pass  the  British  censor.  But 
more  particularly  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  I  be- 
came entangled  in  the  interminable  red  tape  of  the 
army  system,  and,  instead  of  meeting  with  the  warm 
sympathy  that  an  exile  longs  for,  met,  on  the  part 
of  the  army,  with  cold  suspicion ;  however  kind  some 
individuals  were  to  me. 

Simmons  and  I  were  not  permitted  to  leave  the 
boat  until  the  military  came  for  us.  So  far  so  good. 

204 


"IT'S  A  WAY  THEY  HAVE  IN  THE  ARMY" 

We  were  taken  to  the  headquarters  of  the  General 
Officer  Commanding  that  district.  He  briefly  exam- 
ined us  and  good-naturedly  gave  us  some  money  out 
of  his  own  pocket  and  tickets  to  London,  where  we 
were  ordered  to  report  at  the  War  Office. 

Arriving  in  "The  Smoke,"  as  the  army  has  named 
that  city,  we  proceeded  the  next  morning  to  14 
Downing  Street  and  sent  our  names  in  to  the  offi- 
cial we  had  been  directed  to  by  the  general.  He  was 
in  mufti,  whoever  he  was,  and  received  us  kindly 
enough.  We  were  closely  questioned  about  our  ex- 
periences, particularly  in  relation  to  our  guards, 
food,  treatment,  and  so  on.  He  also  asked  us  as  to 
the  amount  of  sickness  among  the  prisoners,  the  con- 
dition of  the  country,  and  so  on. 

Dismissed,  we  made  a  dash  down  past  Big  Ben 
and  the  Parliament  Buildings  for  the  Canadian  Pay 
and  Record  Office,  where  at  Millbank  it  overlooked 
the  Thames.  A  sergeant  took  our  names  and  after 
a  time  took  us,  too,  in  to  the  paymaster.  Simmons 
drew  his  money  without  difficulty  but  I  found 
that  I  was  fifteen  months  dead  and  was  told  that  I 
could  get  no  money  until  my  identity  was  reestab- 
lished. I  protested ;  so  much  so  in  fact  that  I  fully 

205 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

expected  to  land  in  the  "clink."  No  use.  I  was 
sent  out  on  the  street  talking  to  myself. 

We  next  called  on  Lady  Rivers-Bulkeley  and 
Lady  Drummond  to  thank  them  for  the  very  great 
kindness  of  themselves  and  the  Canadian  Red  Cross 
in  sending  us  our  parcels  regularly,  and  without 
which  we  would  assuredly  have  been  too  weak  to 
have  made  our  escape.  Lady  Farquhar,  the  wife  of 
our  late  commanding  officer,  was  out  of  town,  so 
we  did  not  see  her,  much  as  we  desired  to  thank  her 
for  similar  kindnesses. 

Simmons  was  single.  He  was  sent  to  Canada  at 
once  and  was  promptly  discharged.  I  had  a  wife 
and  family  awaiting  me  there  and  I  wanted  badly 
to  go  to  them  by  the  next  boat.  My  wife  had  been 
receiving  letters  from  me  during  my  fifteen  months' 
imprisonment ;  she  had  regularly  received  her  separa- 
tion allowance;  the  Canadian  Red  Cross  and  many 
kind  friends  in  London  had  been  sending  me  pris- 
oner-of-war parcels  for  a  year;  the  authorities  ad- 
mitted my  identity  and  my  former  comrades  recog- 
nised me;  I  had  fifteen  months'  pay  at  $1.20  a  day, 
besides  a  subsistence  allowance  of  sixty-five  cents  a 
day,  coming  to  me;  but  could  not  draw  a  cent  of  it. 

206 


THE    CEMETERY    AT    CELLE    LAAGER    Z    1    CAMP. 


CORPORAL   EDWARDS    (SECOND    FROM    LEFT)    AFTER   HIS   ESCAPE. 
TWO    GOLD    BARS    ON    HIS    LEFT    COAT    SLEEVE    INDICATE 
THAT    HE    HAS    BEEN"    TWICE    WOUNDED. 


I  was  dead.  And  continued  so  for  three  months. 
There  is  no  explanation.  "It's  a  way  they  have  in 
the  Army" ;  or  so  the  army  says. 

In  the  end  it  was  only  through  the  active  interven- 
tion of  Sir  George  Perley,  the  Canadian  High  Com- 
missioner in  London  that  my  case  was  righted.  He, 
I  believe,  cabled  the  Ottawa  authorities,  who  in  turn 
got  in  touch  with  my  wife,  who  produced  the  neces- 
sary documentary  evidence  to  prove  that  I  had  been 
alive  and  a  prisoner  all  this  time. 

I  went  to  the  depot  at  Seaford.  I  borrowed  from 
my  old  friends.  I  hung  round  the  pay  office.  The 
paymaster  said  I  was  not  on  the  strength  of  the  regi- 
ment. I  was  old  soldier  enough  to  profit  by  that  ca- 
lamity at  least.  The  bitter  injustice  of  such  miscar- 
riage of  justice  blinded  me,  as  I  think  it  eventually 
does  most  soldiers,  to  the  accepted  code  of  civil  life. 
I  refused  to  attend  roll  call  or  do  drills,  fatigues,  or 
any  other  part  of  my  regimental  duties  other  than 
certain  interesting  and  thrice-daily  rites  not  uncon- 
nected with  the  kitchen. 

It  is  the  commonness,  the  constant  repetition  of 
such  stupidity  and  such  lack  of  action  that  so  much 
injures  the  reputation  for  intelligence  of  the  army  in 

207 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

the  minds  of  those  who  have  served  in  it;  so  that 
those  who  know  it  best,  like  it  least — and  put  up 
with  it  only  because  it  is  the  poor  instrument  of  a 
good  cause. 

The  paymaster  fell  sick.  A  young  subaltern  was 
acting  for  him.  My  sergeant  pal  tipped  me  off.  As 
I  have  said,  I  was  an  old  soldier  with  all  that  that 
implies.  He  marched  me  up  to  the  officer,  already 
more  or  less  at  sea  about  his  new  duties.  I  asked  for 
money.  He  was  aware  of  my  history  but  not  of  the 
tangle  I  was  in: 

"How  much?" 

I  wondered  how  much  the  traffic  would  bear. 

"Twenty  quid,  sir,"  I  ventured.  He  went  up  in 
the  air. 

"Impossible !    I'll  give  you  ten." 

I  O.  K'd  that  while  the  words  were  yet  warm  on 
his  lips.  Fifty  dollars  is  a  great  deal  of  money  to 
a  soldier.  He  gave  it  to  me  with  a  pass  for  Scot- 
land— where  I  had  relatives — to  which  I  had  long 
been  entitled  but  which  had  been  useless  to  me  as 
long  as  I  had  no  money. 

I  quickly  gathered  my  cronies  together  and  we 
packed  into  the  canteen  to  celebrate  the  occasion  fit- 

208 


"IT'S  A  WAY  THEY  HAVE  IN  THE  ARMY" 

tingly,  in  the  only  fashion  a  good  soldier  knows,  in 
army  beer  so  thick  and  strong  that  the  hops  floated 
on  the  tops  of  the  mess-tins.  While  searching  for 
the  bottom  of  one  of  these  I  heard  the  orderly  shout- 
ing: "Corporal  Edwards!  Corporal  Edwards!"  The 
other  men  gathered  round  me  in  the  corner,  drinking, 
while  I  scrunched  down  so  that  the  orderly  passed 
on  and  out  still  shouting  my  name. 

I  fled  to  the  tent  and  was  hastily  getting  my 
things  together  when  a  corporal  came  hot-foot  say- 
ing that  the  officer  wanted  me  at  once.  I  went  in, 
gave  him  my  very  best  regimental  salute  and  stood 
at  attention. 

"I  find  that  you  are  not  on  the  strength,  cor- 
poral, and  are  not  entitled  to  any  money,  so  I'll 
trouble  you  to  return  that  money  I  gave  you." 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,"  I  said  sadly,  "but  it's  gone." 

"Gone?    How?" 

"Debts,  sir,"  I  said  firmly.  "My  mates  have  been 
keeping  me  going." 

"Well,  you  must  get  it  back  from  them  at  once 
and  return  it  to  me.  It's  most  irregular.  Push  on 
now  and  see  that  you're  back  here  in  an  hour's  time 

20Q 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  FAT 

with  that  money  before  those  fellows  spend  it  all  in 
the  canteen." 

"Very  good,  sir."  I  gave  him  a  smashing  good 
Augen  Rechts  to  cheer  him  up  against  the  time  he 
should  discover  that  I  was  well  on  my  way  to  Scot- 
land. 

And  I  remained  there  until  I  received  notice  that 
my  regimental  bones  had  been  officially  exhumed; 
after  which  I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  my  back 
pay  and  three  months'  furlough  for  Canada  and 
home! 

AUTHOR'S  NOTE. — An  amusing  and  at  the  same  time 
gratifying  sequel  to  this  story  developed  immediately  upon 
the  heels  of  its  publication  in  a  considerably  smaller  form 
in  the  Saturday  Evening  Post.  Sergeant  Edwards,  who 
had  not  previously  been  consulted  by  the  authorities,  was 
at  once  offered  his  choice  between  doing  "duty"  in  Canada 
or  taking  a  discharge  from  the  army,  instead  of  going  over- 
seas again.  He  chose  the  discharge. 

An  interesting  fact  in  connection  with  Brumley,  the  man 
who  was  the  first  to  be  recaptured  on  the  second  attempt 
to  escape,  is  that  according  to  a  post  card  received  from 
him  by  his  wife,  he  has  since  made  two  other  unsuccessful 
attempts  at  escape.  Scarfe,  who  was  exchanged  to  Switzer- 
land, reports  that  he  has  married  a  Swiss  girl  there. 
Stamper,  another .  Patricia  who  was  captured  at  the  same 
time  as  Edwards,  has  recently  been  exchanged  and  is  now 
in  England.  Scott,  who  was  captured  with  the  men  of  an 

2IO 


"IT'S  A  WAY  THEY  HAVE  IN  THE  ARMY" 

English  regiment,  was  exchanged  to  Switzerland  and  re- 
cently returned  to  Toronto  and  has  been  in  hospital,  in  a 
serious  condition,  ever  since.  The  fate  of  the  others  is  un- 
known. 


211 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

In  order  to  remove  any  vestige  of  doubt  in  the 
reader's  mind  as  to  the  authenticity  of  Corporal  Ed- 
wards' tale,  it  has  been  deemed  advisable  to  present 
reproductions  of  certain  newspaper  articles  and  cor- 
respondence which  bear  directly  on  some  of  the 
points  touched  upon  in  the  story. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  quite  aside  from  the  major 
fact  of  the  escape  itself  having  been  brought  out 
here,  there  is  the  equally  important  one  of  the  bring- 
ing out  of  a  great  number  of  lesser  points  which  tally 
to  a  hair  with  such  references  to  them  as  are  made 
in  the  story,  such  for  instance  as  the  references  to 
the  delay  in  England,  the  references  in  their  post 
cards  of  those  fellow-prisoners  who  remain  in  Ger- 
many and  other  facts  of  a  similar  nature. 

The  following  are  exact  reproductions  in  every 
case,  except  for  the  explanatory  note  which  prefaces 
each  item. 


212 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

Extract  from  Toronto  Daily  Star,  May  30,  1915. 

WAS  BACK  ONLY  THREE  WEEKS 

CORP.    EDWARDS,    REPORTED    MISSING,    WAS    WOUNDED 
SHORT  TIME  AGO. 

Lance-Corp.  Edward  Edwards  of  the  Princess 
Pats  who  is  reported  missing  to-day,  has  only  been 
back  at  the  trenches  for  three  weeks,  after  having 
been  wounded  and  in  England  for  a  month  with 
a  bullet  in  his  foot.  He  lived  at  70  Standish 
Avenue,  Rosedale,  where  his  wife  and  three  young 
sons  now  live.  He  is  38  years  of  age  and  has  been 
in  Canada  ten  years.  Previous  service  in  Africa 
and  India  with  the  Gordon  Highlanders  is  to  his 
credit. 

Letter  from   Corporal  Edwards  to  His   JVtfe  in 
Toronto. 

Mon  Adress  exacte: 
GIESSEN  (Allemagne) 
Compagnie  No.  6  Baraque  No.  A. 
Nom  et  Prenom:  E.  Edwards.    Oct.  2nd,  1915. 

MY  DEAREST  EM:  A  few  more  lines,  hoping 
they  find  all  in  the  best  of  health  and  everything 
going  on  all  right.  I  received  your  parcels  all 
right.  They  were  a  treat  and  came  in  good  con- 
dition. How  are  the  boys  getting  along?  Aw- 
213 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

fully  sorry  about  Hector  but  hope  he  is  all  right 
again,  poor  chap's  been  having  a  hard  time  of  it. 
How  are  Gordon  and  Frank.  Tell  them  I  was 
asking  for  them.  I  guess  the  Beastie  has  grown 
quite  a  big  chap.  Thanks  for  J.  Birnies'  address. 
I  will  drop  him  a  card  some  time  but  you  see  I  can 
only  send  two  letters  a  month.  Jack  wanted  me 
to  write  to  the  lodge  but  I  can't  see  how  I  can  man- 
age it.  Em,  lass,  don't  send  me  any  clothing  as  I 
will  manage  all  right.  Col.  Farquhar's  wife  is  go- 
ing to  send  me  out  some  and  Major  Gault  is  send- 
ing tobacco  and  cigarettes  so  I  will  be  all  right.  I 
had  a  parcel  from  Bob  with  a  shirt  and  some  eat- 
ables; also  one  from  Jean  at  Blacktop  and  one 
from  home.  We  are  always  on  the  lookout  for 
them.  Have  you  had  any  word  from  Mina?  I've 
had  letters  from  them  all.  We  are  having  rather 
cool  weather.  I  sent  a  post  card  to  G.  Nelson ;  I 
don't  know  if  he  ever  got  it  but  you  can  ask  him 
when  he  comes  up.  Em,  what  are  you  doing  about 
the  house*?  Are  you  getting  it  fixed  up  or  are  you 
coming  over  home?  It  would  be  rather  late  this 
year  to  come  over  but  please  yourself;  only  let  me 
know  what  you  are  doing.  Is  George  still  in  Can- 
ada? Jean  was  expecting  him  to  drop  in  any  time. 
He  has  been  very  good  to  me  ever  since  I  landed 
first  in  England.  I  will  never  be  able  to  pay  her 
214 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

back.  I  can't  give  you  any  news  as  I  don't  know 
it  myself.  Don't  wait  on  a  letter  from  me  before 
you  write  but  write  often  and  tell  me  all  about 
yourself  and  the  boys.  Tell  Jack  to  write  and  I 
will  drop  him  a  card  when  I  can.  Keep  your 
heart  up  and  look  after  yourself.  Tell  Miss 
Holmes  I  was  asking  for  her;  also  Mrs.  Arlow. 
Tell  her  I  got  her  letter ;  also  tell  all  my  friends  I 
was  asking  for  them.  If  Mr.  Skerrow  comes  up 
again  tell  him  I  am  doing  fine  but  would  sooner  be 
working  up  in  N.  Toronto — but  am  making  the 
best  of  it.  I  think  I  will  stop  Em;  I  have  really 
nothing  to  tell  you,  only  write  soon  and  often. 
Give  the  boys  a  tight  one  for  me.  Best  love  to 
you  all.  Good  bye. 

Your  Affect.  Ed. 
149  Corpl.  E.  Edwards, 
Barrack  A., 
Company  6, 

Prisoner  of  War. 
Giessen,  Germany. 

P.  S.    Just  received  your  letter  Sept.  3rd.    Tell 
Mrs.  Bownie  not  to  bother  sending  anything.     I 
have  got  all  I  want.     Can't  send  a  long  letter. 
This  is  all  we  are  allowed.    Ed. 
215 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Extract  from  Montreal  Gazette,  Sept.  21,  1916. 

EDWARD  EDWARDS  ESCAPES  FROM  FOE 

TORONTO  SOLDIER  WITH  Two  OTHERS  MAKE  GET-AWAY. 

WANDER  FOR  THREE  WEEKS. 

BRASS   BAND  ESCORTS   THEM   TO   MAYOR  OF   TOWN   IN 
HOLLAND. 

London,  Sept.  21. — Registered  as  dead  by  the 
Canadian  Pay  and  Record  office,  which  was  about 
to  authorise  distribution  of  their  effects,  Lance- 
Corp.  Edward  Edwards  of  the  Princess  Patricias, 
70  Standish  Avenue;  Pte.  James  Jerry  Burke 
(1216)  Eighth  Battalion,  Winnipeg  and  Pte. 
M.  C.  Simmons  (23445)  °f  Seventh  Battalion, 
Port  Arthur,  have  arrived  in  London  after  having 
escaped  from  a  German  prison  camp.  They  ex- 
perienced some  strenuous  adventures.  For  three 
weeks  they  were  at  large;  slowly  and  cautiously 
wending  their  way  to  the  Holland  frontier,  they 
covered  the  distance  of  150  miles.  In  Holland 
the  fugitives  to  their  surprise,  found  a  warm  wel- 
come. In  fact,  a  local  band  headed  them  in  pro- 
cession to  the  Mayor,  who  in  turn  communicated 
with  the  British  Consul,  with  the  result  that  they 
were  shipped  to  England. 
216 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

Extract  from  Toronto  Daily  Star,  Sept.  22,  1916. 

MRS.  EDWARDS  IS  REJOICING 

CAN   HARDLY   BELIEVE   THAT  HUSBAND   ESCAPED   FROM 

GERMAN  PRISON. 

HEARD  So  MANY  DIFFERENT  TALES. 

COMRADES    WHO    HAVE    RETURNED    ASSURED    HER    HE 
WOULD  GET  AWAY. 

"I  cannot  believe  it  until  I  hear  from  him. 
But  I  do  hope  it  is  true.  I  am  glad  I  never  kept 
him  back,  and  never  told  him  not  to  go.  He  is  a 
soldier  to  the  backbone." 

Mrs.  Edward  Edwards,  70  Standish  Avenue, 
Rosedale,  was  discussing  the  report  that  her  hus- 
band, Lance-Corp.  Edward  Edwards  of  the 
Princess  Patricias,  had  escaped  from  a  prison  camp 
in  Germany  and  after  travelling  over  150  miles 
of  country  arrived  with  two  others  on  Dutch  ter- 
ritory whence  they  were  shipped  to  England  after 
being  feted  by  some  of  the  people  in  Holland. 

"I  have  heard  so  many  different  stories.  At  first 
I  was  told  he  was  killed,  but  later  he  sent  me  a  let- 
ter from  Germany  telling  me  he  was  in  a  prison 
camp  there.  Only  last  Saturday  I  had  a  letter 
from  him  in  which  he  asked  me  to  send  him  on  a 
box  of  soap  to  wash  his  clothes.  He  said  in  that 
letter  that  he  had  enough  tobacco,  cocoa  and  coffee 
217 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

to  last  him  for  some  time  but  he  needed  soap." 
Lance-Corporal  Edwards,  who  was  connected 
with  the  Royal  Grenadiers,  in  Toronto,  was  for- 
merly a  member  of  the  Gordon  Highlanders,  and 
fought  with  the  2nd  Battalion  of  that  regiment 
throughout  the  South  African  War.  Stationed  in 
India  at  the  outbreak  of  that  war  the  regiment 
was  sent  to  South  Africa  and  was  shut  up  in  Lady- 
smith.  He  is  the  possessor  of  three  medals  and 
five  clasps.  He  took  part  in  the  great  Delhi 
Durbar. 

"Over  a  year  ago  my  husband  was  shot  in  the 
foot,"  said  Mrs.  Edwards.  "He  returned  to  the 
trenches  and  was  just  three  weeks  back  when  he 
was  posted  as  missing.  That  was  a  year  ago  last 
May.  For  a  long  time  I  had  no  word  of  what  had 
happened  to  him  until  I  had  a  letter  from  him." 

VISITS  FROM  COMRADES. 

"Many  of  the  returned  Princess  Patricias  come 
to  see  me.  Only  last  Sunday  one  of  them  said  to 
me  when  talking  of  my  husband:  'He  will  be 
escaping  from  the  Germans  some  of  these  days.' 
And  it  is  just  like  him  to  do  that.  But  he  and  the 
two  with  him  must  have  suffered  terribly  in  the 
time  they  were  hiding  through  150  miles  of  the 
enemy's  country.  I  wish  I  had  him  home  now." 
218 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

"I  heard  from  him  regularly  every  six  weeks  by 
letter.  Occasionally  he  would  send  me  a  post- 
card between  the  letters.  He  never  discussed  the 
war,  except  in  the  phrase  that  it  could  not  last  for 
ever.  He  always  wrote  bright  and  cheerful  let- 
ters." 

At  No.  68  Standish  Avenue  lives  the  widow  of 
Private  Percy  Edwards,  brother  of  Lance-Cor- 
poral Edwards.  Private  Edwards  was  a  reservist 
of  the  Gordon  Highlanders  and  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  was  called  home  to  join  his  regiment.  He 
was  killed  in  the  first  action  in  which  the  Gordons 
were  engaged.  His  widow  and  three  young  sons 
live  next  door  to  Mrs.  Edwards,  who  also  has 
three  young  sons.  Both  of  the  Edwards  brothers 
and  their  wives  are  natives  of  Aberdeenshire,  Scot- 
land. 

Postal  Card  to  Mrs.  E.  Edwards,  70  Standish  Ave., 
N.  Rosedale,  Toronto,  Ont.,  Canada. 

12th  Sept.  1916.  Assen,  Holland.  Dear  Em: 
I  guess  you  will  get  my  letter  along  with  this 
card  explaining  things.  You  will  know  that  I 
have  escaped  from  Germany  and  am  on  my  way  to 
England  but  will  write  you  every  chance  I  get. 
Give  my  love  to  the  boys  and  I  hope  all  is  well 
219 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

at  home.     I   am  feeling  pretty  good.     This  is 
where  I  am  just  now.    Yours  ever,  Ed. 

Postal  to  Mrs.  E.  Edwards,  70  Standish  Ave.,  N. 
Rosedale,  Toronto,  Canada. 

Sept.  8th,  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  England. 

Dear  Em:  Hope  you  have  received  all  my  let- 
ters that  I  have  written  you  from  Holland.  They 
will  tell  you  all  about  my  escape.  I  leave  here 
for  London  to-night.  Will  write  you  from  there. 
Love  to  the  boys.  Write  me  Bulter  address.  Ed. 

Postal  Card  to  Mrs.  E.  Edwards,  70  Standish  Ave., 
N.  Rosedale,  Toronto,  Canada. 

Sept.  22nd,  1916.  Folkestone,  England.  Dear 
Em :  Hope  you  got  the  cable  all  right,  also  some 
of  the  letters  and  cards  I  sent  you.  What  do  you 
think  of  my  escape"?  Not  so  bad,  eh?  Write  me 
at  Bulter.  How  are  the  boys'?  Give  them  my 
love.  Am  back  at  Shornecliffe  with  the  regiment. 
Will  be  going  on  leave.  Trying  to  get  over  to 
see  you.  Will  write  you  to-morrow.  Write  as 
soon  as  you  can.  Ed. 

Post  Card  to  Cpl.  E.  Edwards,  7  St.  Mary's  Place, 
Cut  tor,  Aberdeenshire,  Scotland,  from  Cpl.  E. 
Hardy,  a  fellow  prisoner. 

220 


HOMEWARD    BOUND.      CORPORAL   EDWARDS    IN   CENTER. 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

Mon  Adress  Exacte: 
Nom  et  Prenom:    Cpl.  E.  Hardy 
No.  matricule:  1906 
No.  de  la  Compagnie :  8 
Lettre  de  la  baraque:  "E" 
GIESSEN  (Allemagne) 

Giessen,  le  25-9-1916. 

Dear  Ted :  I  received  your  P.  C.  quite  safe.  I 
did  a  little  dance  on  my  own.  Charlie  Walker 
is  away  somewhere.  How  are  Dennie  and  Nobler 
going  on.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  pleased  to  hear 
of  you  getting  in  port  safe.  Sorry  to  hear  you 
got  wrecked  on  your  first  trip  but  yom  have  no 
worry  now.  Good  Luck.  Ted. 

Post  Card  to  Cpl.  E.  Edwards,  Number  One  Com- 
pany P.  P.  C.  L.  /.,  St.  Martins  Plains,  Shornecliffe, 
England.  Via  Holland,  from  Hookie  Walker,  a 
fellow  prisoner. 

Mon  addresse  exacte: 
Nom  et  prenom:  C.  Walker, 
No.  matricule: 

No.  de  la  compagnie :  6,  Baraque :  B. 
No.  du  detachement:  l 

Giessen  (Allemagne)  Oct.  1st,  1916. 
221 


Dear  Old  Ted:  I  received  your  P.  C.  God 
Bless  you  and  good  Luck  be  with  you  always.  I 
have  been  on  the  water  and  got  wrecked  also  but 
I  have  not  given  up  by  any  means.  I  am  in  the 
best  of  health.  Remember  me  to  all  and  God  be 
with  you.  Hookie. 

Undated  Post  Card  to  Mr.  E.  Edwards  Jun,  7  St. 
Mary's  Place,  Cutter,  Aberdeensliire,  Scotland.  Via 
Holland,  from  Cpl.  Hardy. 

Mon  Adresse  exacte: 
Nom  et  prenom:  Cpl.  E.  Hardy 
No.  matricule:  1906 
No.  de  la  compagnie:  8,  Baraque  "E" 
No.  du  detachement: 

Giessen  (Allemagne) 

Dear  Ted :  I  am  very  glad  everything  went  on 
Ai.  I  am  sorry  I  was  not  with  you.  I  am  not 
wanting  anything,  thanks.  I  hope  you  have  a  good 
time  when  you  go  to  Canada.  I  have  not  seen 
anything  of  Hookie  for  about  12  months,  nor 
Stamper.  I  have  still  got  a  few  things  safe  for 
you  when  I  come  home.  I  will  close  with  best 
respects,  Ted. 

222 


Undated  Card  to  Mrs.  Edwards,  Rotterdam,  Hol- 
land. 

Dear  Em.  Hope  you  are  getting  my  letters  all 
right  and  that  all  is  well  at  home.  I  am  still 
feeling  and  getting  treated  pretty  good  and  will  be 
in  England  in  two  or  three  days.  Since  it  all 
goes  well  write  me  c/o  of  Bulter  address  and  I 
will  be  sure  to  get  them.  How  are  the  boys'?  Is 
the  wee  chap  still  holding  my  place?  Tell  Gor- 
don when  I  get  to  England  I  will  help  him  get  a 
bicycle  so  that  he  can  be  the  same  as  Hector.  This 
is  where  I  am  just  now  but  will  be  on  my  way  in 
a  few  hours.  I  have  sent  you  Tinnie's  photo. 
How  will  she  do?  It  might  be  all  we  can  get. 
Ed. 

Postal  to  Mrs.  Edwards,  70  Standish  Ave.,  N.  Rose- 
dale,  Toronto,  Canada. 

26-10-16.  From  Folkestone. 

Dear  Em:  Arrived  back  in  Folkestone  all 
right.  Called  on  Mrs.  Cawthra.  Had  a  long  talk 
with  her.  Can't  get  any  word  of  when  I  am  to 
get  over  to  Canada  but  will  let  you  know  as  soon 
as  possible.  Might  be  some  time  yet.  Got  the 
letter  with  Hector's  and  will  bring  the  things  with 
me  when  I  come  home.  How  are  the  boys  get- 
ting along*?  Wish  I  was  there.  Good-bye.  Ed. 
223 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Extract  from  Toronto  Daily  Star,  December,  1916. 

HOME  ON  LEAVE  AFTER  ESCAPE  FROM  THE 
HUNS 

SOT.  EDWARD  EDWARDS  TELLS  GRAPHIC  STORY  OF   100 

MILE  FLIGHT. 

WIFE  HAD  TO  PROVE  HUSBAND  WAS  ALIVE. 

SENT  His   PHOTO   AND   LETTERS   BEFORE   WAR   OFFICE 

WOULD  BELIEVE  IT. 

No  bands  played  and  no  Reception  Committee 
extended  the  welcome  hand  to  Sergt.  Edward  Ed- 
wards when  he  stepped  off  the  train  at  the  Union 
Station  and  walked  to  the  home  of  his  wife  and 
family  one  day  last  week,  after  two  years  and 
seven  months'  absence  at  the  front  with  a  store- 
house of  thrilling  experiences  that  rival  even  the 
exploits  of  the  Three  Musketeers.  That  he  was 
one  of  only  49  left  of  the  crack  Princess  Patricias 
who  were  mown  down  at  the  Ypres  Salient  on 
May  8,  1915,  was  wounded  twice,  missing  and 
officially  declared  dead  and  escaped  twice  from 
German  prison  camps  in  company  with  two  com- 
panions are  only  incidents  in  a  long  chapter  of 
events  which  surpass  in  thrilling  interest  Dumas' 
most  daring  fiction.  Tom  Brumley,  another 
member  of  a  Toronto  regiment,  and  Mervin  Sim- 
mons, a  Canadian  from  Trail,  B.C.,  were  the  two 
friends  of  the  modern  D'Artagan,  but  unfortu- 
224 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

nately  Brumley  was  recaptured  by  the  Huns 
during  the  first  escape  and  Sergt.  Edwards  has  not 
heard  from  him  since. 

Sergt.  Edwards  is  now  on  ten  weeks'  furlough 
and  is  due  to  report  in  England  on  May  10,  when 
he  expects  to  go  into  the  fighting  again.  "We  went 
to  the  Ypres  salient  in  May.  I  was  one  of  ten  in 
my  company  to  get  through,"  said  he. 

TRIBUTE  TO  COL.  DULLER 

Here  Sergt.  Edwards  paid  a  tribute  to  his  late 
commanding  officer,  Col.  Buller,  who  was  killed 
on  the  2nd  of  June  of  this  year.  "It  was  the 
Germans,  too,  who  told  us  of  our  old  Colonel's 
death.  They  knew  everything,  it  seemed,  about 
our  commanders  and  could  tell  the  regiment  and 
division  that  we  belonged  to." 

We  were  taken  to  Roulers,  Belgium.  After  a 
brief  stay  there  we  were  taken  to  Giessen.  There 
were  1,200  prisoners,  mostly  Russian  and  French. 
The  food  we  got  was  awful. 

ft 

REFUSED  TO  WORK 

"After  a  stay  here  of  about  six  months  I  was 

sent  with  my  two  friends,  Brumley  and  Simmons, 

to  a  punishment  camp  for  refusing  to  work  in  a 

steel  factory  to  make  munitions.    Three  hundred 

225 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

British  and  Canadians  also  refused  in  spite  of 
threats,  and  ill-treatment,  and  all  were  sent  on  to 
Celle  Laager,  the  main  punishment  camp.  We 
were  there  two  weeks  and  then  we  were  split  into 
small  parties  and  I  was  slated  with  my  two  friends 
for  a  place  called  Oldenburg.  Here  they  wanted 
us  to  go  into  a  moor  and  drain  the  place  to  grow 
potatoes.  It  was  from  this  place  that  we  made 
our  first  serious  attempt  to  escape. 

We  made  a  dash  for  the  shelter  of  the  moor. 
In  a  few  minutes  we  heard  the  baying  of  a  vicious 
pack  of  dogs  they  had  sent  in  pursuit,  but  we 
managed  to  elude  them  and  struck  out  for  the 
Dutch  border  more  than  100  miles  distant.  We 
came  to  the  River  Ems  four  miles  from  the  bor- 
der of  Holland.  We  could  not  find  a  boat  or 
raft  and  were  recaptured. 

MADE  FINAL  ESCAPE 

After  undergoing  this  sentence,  Sergt.  Edwards 
and  Simmons  were  taken  to  another  punishment 
camp  at  Salsengen  and  it  was  from  here  that  they 
made  their  successful  escape  on  August  21. 

The  British  Consul  at  Rotterdam  arranged  the 
wanderers'  passage  to  England,  where  they  ar- 
rived on  the  i8th  of  September.  When  he  re- 
ported in  London,  Sergt.  Edwards  had  to  prove 
226 


THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

he  was  alive,  because  the  records  of  the  War  Of- 
fice had  him  marked  up  as  dead.  A  lot  of  red 
tape  had  to  be  untangled  before  the  gallant  sol- 
dier could  be  officially  brought  back  from  the 
dead,  but  at  that  time  he  was  still  writing  to  his 
wife,  so  that,  when  she  saw  her  husband's  name 
in  the  casualty  list,  she  at  once  contradicted  the 
officials  by  sending  her  husband's  letters  and  his 
pictures. 

Postal  card  to  No.  39  Cpl.  E.  Edwards,  P.  P.  C.  L. 
/.  Depot,  South  Camp,  Seaford,  Sussex,  England, 
from  Charles  Scarfe,  who  was  also  captured  on  May 
8M. 

Manor  Farm,  Interlaken,  Switzerland,  Jan.  3rd, 
1917. 

Dear  Old  Pal  Teddy: 

Just  a  card  hoping  to  find  you  well  as  it  leaves 
me  A-i.  Hope  you  had  a  good  Christmas.  Had 
a  fairly  good  one  myself  but  hope  we  are  in  Can- 
ada next  one.  Have  had  enough  of  being  a  pris- 
oner of  war.  Remember  me  to  all  the  boys  and 
write  soon.  From  your  old  pal,  Charlie. 

Postal  card  to  39  Cpl.  E.  Edwards,  P.  P.  C.  L.  I. 
Depot,  South  Camp,  Seaford,  Sussex,  England,  from 
his  comrade  in  the  escape. 

227 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  A  PRINCESS  PAT 

Quebec,  Canada,  Dec.  9,  1916. 

Dear  Ted:  I  arrived  here  yesterday  and  ex- 
pect to  leave  for  the  Pacific  coast  to-morrow.  I 
hope  you  have  got  away  from  England  by  this 
time.  Yours  sincerely,  M.  C.  Simmons. 


228 


